4 min read

13. Expressions

Written Thursday, October 31, 2019 / Day 80 / Morning

Language translators will tell you that there are times in the process of translating where the concepts in the one language are so vast that there can be a problem boiling the concept down to a word in the other language.

Because of that, language translations do not always take you to their intended place.

Such has been my world of grief.

The emotions here are of such a nature that there is a struggle to boil the emotion down to just one word. Sometimes I have to qualify the feeling in many words.

Other times there are not words.

Only expressions.

Tears are the default for when this conflict is beyond resolution. Tears are the universal way that the emotion finds its way out of grief and into the world.

The forces here in the world of grief are hard to define but I will give it a try.

First of all - it is a dark place. Devoid of joy or happiness. When grief is in play - there is a vast emptiness that is all consuming. There really is no escape from that in its pure state.

If there were a core to grief it is quite obviously that at its core is the loss. It is the center of everything that is wrong. Everything that is in turmoil.

And depending upon the closeness of the loss, the amount you were attached to the loss, the magnitude of how what was lost was a part of you - that core - at its extreme - can be like the grand canyon. Breathtaking in its scope and from your perspective as vast as anything could be.

It is this backdrop that immobilizes us. That has stopped us in our tracks.

It is easy to see why there are not enough words to describe grief. What I have described is only a part of it. The part I can attach words to. The rest of it is beyond words.

That is where the tears come in.

They are the expression of this sadness, this emptiness, the futility that is now a part of our life.

Culture and the oblivious observers in our lives pressing on us to deal with this conflict. When there is nothing that can be done to help us as we normally define help.

Because you see, the world and our friends who are not in the world of grief, see our situation as broken. And in that sense they are correct.

Although unlike an actual broken element of our life that could conceivably be repaired through fixing what has been broken - in grief there is no repair for a loss of this magnitude.

That is why we cry, and those outside of grief do not know what to do with us. Our tears make them uncomfortable. We are always perhaps a bit depressing since there’s not much new in our lives since we last saw them. We are still suffering. And they are not.

In this past week since my return from my trip home I have had a watershed week. Intensely difficult on so many levels. Amidst the prayers and declarations there has been an ever so slight change in the undefinable world of grief.

Even a slight change in the world of grief is significant. Significant because, as I have said, there’s nothing physically that you can do. Talking with others, especially those who are in the same world provides a welcome outlet if nothing else.

The extreme weight of despair that I have been facing has been dramatically lifted. The change has been noticeable. I no longer am dragging that along at this point.

It has been such a relief. And relief and grief do not go together.

I have decided to intentionally be thankful for what I have. I have not been ungrateful - but it seemed like an expression of that gratitude would be good. So I have been expressing thanks - for my home, finances - everything I can think of. And the most sensitive and delicate topic of thanks is thanking God for my dear sweet wife who I still love with all of my heart. That He gave her to me for 47 years and for the strength He gave me and the bond we had. I try to thank Him every day for that.

In the past few days I have noticed a difference in something. I’m not sure how to define this - but my tears seem different.

The only attribute I can grasp is that my recent tears are somehow comforting while the tears of the past have been dark and empty.

Perhaps they are coming from a different place.

I did make a major effort to declare that I will no longer allow myself to be sad for my wife’s memory - that I only want joy from her memory. I reserve the right to be sad - but not because I dredge up the past or reenact signifiant moments that result in nothing but sadness and pain. I have kept saying that.

So at some undefinable level there has been a change.

I can’t figure it out - and as you know - that is my nature to quantify and put everything in context.

13. Expressions

Written Thursday, October 31, 2019 / Day 80 / Morning

Language translators will tell you that there are times in the process of translating where the concepts in the one language are so vast that there can be a problem boiling the concept down to a word in the other language.

Because of that, language translations do not always take you to their intended place.

Such has been my world of grief.

The emotions here are of such a nature that there is a struggle to boil the emotion down to just one word. Sometimes I have to qualify the feeling in many words.

Other times there are not words.

Only expressions.

Tears are the default for when this conflict is beyond resolution. Tears are the universal way that the emotion finds its way out of grief and into the world.

The forces here in the world of grief are hard to define but I will give it a try.

First of all - it is a dark place. Devoid of joy or happiness. When grief is in play - there is a vast emptiness that is all consuming. There really is no escape from that in its pure state.

If there were a core to grief it is quite obviously that at its core is the loss. It is the center of everything that is wrong. Everything that is in turmoil.

And depending upon the closeness of the loss, the amount you were attached to the loss, the magnitude of how what was lost was a part of you - that core - at its extreme - can be like the grand canyon. Breathtaking in its scope and from your perspective as vast as anything could be.

It is this backdrop that immobilizes us. That has stopped us in our tracks.

It is easy to see why there are not enough words to describe grief. What I have described is only a part of it. The part I can attach words to. The rest of it is beyond words.

That is where the tears come in.

They are the expression of this sadness, this emptiness, the futility that is now a part of our life.

Culture and the oblivious observers in our lives pressing on us to deal with this conflict. When there is nothing that can be done to help us as we normally define help.

Because you see, the world and our friends who are not in the world of grief, see our situation as broken. And in that sense they are correct.

Although unlike an actual broken element of our life that could conceivably be repaired through fixing what has been broken - in grief there is no repair for a loss of this magnitude.

That is why we cry, and those outside of grief do not know what to do with us. Our tears make them uncomfortable. We are always perhaps a bit depressing since there’s not much new in our lives since we last saw them. We are still suffering. And they are not.

In this past week since my return from my trip home I have had a watershed week. Intensely difficult on so many levels. Amidst the prayers and declarations there has been an ever so slight change in the undefinable world of grief.

Even a slight change in the world of grief is significant. Significant because, as I have said, there’s nothing physically that you can do. Talking with others, especially those who are in the same world provides a welcome outlet if nothing else.

The extreme weight of despair that I have been facing has been dramatically lifted. The change has been noticeable. I no longer am dragging that along at this point.

It has been such a relief. And relief and grief do not go together.

In the past few days I have noticed a difference in something. I’m not sure how to define this - but my tears seem different.

The only attribute I can grasp is that my recent tears are somehow comforting while the tears of the past have been dark and empty.

Perhaps they are coming from a different place.

So at some undefinable level there has been a change.

I can’t figure it out - and as you know - that is my nature to quantify and put everything in context.

But the tears, I believe are trying to tell me something.

And you know, I think I’m going to listen to them.

I’ll let them lead me - because they seem to know a way that I do not know.

Sometimes God sends you a message in different ways.

Who knew He would use tears to tell me He cares.

Recent Posts

Comments