Those Who Mourn

by Nichole Haugen

This year marks the sixth anniversary of the deaths of both my dad (July) and my mom (December). As time goes on, there are many days that are easier, but there are still days that I find myself smothered in sadness. Sometimes when the latter happens, I find myself thinking this shouldn’t be happening. I should be over this by now.

Photo by Ryanwar Hanif on Unsplash

The days that I do feel sadness, I also feel heavy and often hopeless. What feels worse is when I unconsciously scold myself with the belief that this shouldn’t be happening anymore. The truth is that this absolutely should be happening.

I miss my parents. Of course I am sad that they are not here. Nothing has gone wrong when I feel this way.

So why do we tell ourselves that we should be over it?

Our brains are designed to keep us safe, seek pleasure, and exert as little energy as possible. Grieving goes against that. Grief feels very unsafe and unpredictable. It does not bring any amount of pleasure. It takes a lot of energy, physically and emotionally. Our brain, wanting to protect us, feeds us a lot of sentences to try and motivate us to do something different. This means that our brain is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. However, this adds to us feeling like something is wrong.

We live in a culture that measures progress by how quickly we have moved on. Grief doesn’t work in this way. It is not linear. This moment of sadness doesn’t mean that you are going backward. It is a reminder that love lives on.

Grief changes shape over time, but it never truly disappears because love doesn’t end. So what do we do in those moments? How do we handle the grief and pain that comes rushing back in?

First and foremost, pause. Feel that vibration of emotion in your body. Name it. Is it sorrow? Is it overwhelm? Is it loneliness? Is it guilt, or anger? I like to remind myself that ‘I am safe’ and ‘I am loved.’ Place your hand on your neck and have skin to skin contact, this calms down our nervous system.

Then I ask myself, ‘What do I need?’ Sometimes it’s a nap, sometimes it’s food or water, sometimes I need a break or a good cry. Once I identify what it is I truly need, I schedule that in. I may not be able to take a nap right at that moment, but I can make sure when the kids go to bed that I do something nice for myself like watch a show I love, or drink hot chocolate. I can also make sure I get a nap the next day, or go to bed early.

When Jesus wept over the death of Lazarus, he didn’t rush on to something else trying to distract himself. He didn’t tell himself, ‘you shouldn’t cry, you know he will be in heaven.’ No, Jesus wept.

You don’t need to be over this. This is something you will never ‘get over.’ This love will continue to shift until, with time, you will have sadness with peace.

This month we celebrate Our Lady of the Rosary. I like to turn to Our Mother when I am missing my earthly mother. I ask Mary to help me offer up this pain to Jesus. I ask her to help me not shame or guilt myself for having these feelings, but to use them to draw closer to her son, Jesus.

Mary, Our Mother, you were a perfect example of offering up your pain and suffering. Please help us in our pain of grief to turn to Jesus and not away from Him. You see our hearts, you see all we hurt and all we desire. Please wrap your loving mantle around us. We ask all of this through Christ Our Lord. Amen.

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