Grieving friends

I miss my father. I miss him a lot.

My dad was quiet but we had many interactions along the course of the day. Some of these were mundane. Others not so. He kept me updated on the news. It’s been over a month since I knew what was going on in the world or in my own country. The honest truth is, right now, I just cannot be bothered. It doesn’t feel very important in the scheme of things.

I’ve not watched a single football match. I’m not sure how I can. My dad was always with me. We talked about the matches, complained or celebrated how the game went. We praised our players and coach. Right now – I don’t know where in the Premier League we stand. It doesn’t feel very important in the scheme of things.

They tell you that when you face hardship, you’ll find out who your friends are. This I found out first hand when my mum passed on almost 18 years ago. It shocked me at the time. I must say, it’s shocking me again. It’s been interesting to see how people come up to me or send me very upbeat “how are you?” messages. Really? I’ve just lost my dad. Life as I know it will never be the same again. Such a hard question as it shakes the person who has lost to the core. It feels so thoughtless.

It’s also very interesting to see how you get dropped. It happens- people stop coming by. They stop messaging or calling. A lot of these would’ve been the ones you expected to really come by, message or call a lot. A friend who has endured grief said she calls these ‘fair weather friends’. Maybe she’s right. I’m undecided just yet. I also think that quite a lot of people simply don’t know how to approach someone grieving. Some send me all sorts of random messages which are full of information about their day, the turn of the weather, the challenges at work, etc. It’s beyond me to comprehend right now. It just feels like random noise.

Some ask me what I want. Honestly? I’d like for everything to stop. I’d like to let out a gut-wrenching cry for this pain I feel in my heart. I don’t know what else I want. I find it hard to decide what to have for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I’m very sure I’m not in the frame of mind to school them in how to approach the grieving. Some have tried to ask me for advice on issues they are facing. I’ve quietly sat through a couple of these, and I tried very hard to say the right things. I was even more exhausted after that. It was too big a burden for me. I’ve declined helping out with a couple of others and I’ve declined receiving help from those who wear me out. Some get angry with me when my response isn’t what they want. I can feel the coldness but at present, I cannot say I care. I’ve had to make some decisions to help myself maintain my strength. None of the things that affect my self preservation right now feel very important in the scheme of things.

We all grieve differently. I don’t for a minute propose that my grief is in any way deeper or more profound. We all grieve for our significant losses. I have appreciated the friends and family who have come by. My young nieces are here as I write this. Their laughter is something I love listening to. Some who come by or reach out have broken hearts too, with very recent losses. We’ve been able to talk about the way life has changed for us. Some have come by with food or have given me some afternoons or evenings of quiet, calm conversation. Nothing draining. Just consoling and nurturing. There have even been moments when we laugh. Gosh, I’ve appreciated these. Some have let me speak about my father. They’ve not made it taboo to bring him up. I am grateful when they let me talk about him. It helps.

It is through these diverse souls that I find I am being ministered to. A quiet conversation in a carpark, a coffee or lunch visit, some messages or calls to check if stuff can be sent. Hugs. It’s been much appreciated. My colleague and friend from church cannot know how God used her when she sent me a basket of flowers and fruit. I wanted fruit and was feeling nauseous but had no energy to go buy some. She had no idea of this and what she sent me met a need. How can I not see God in that? Some friends who live nearby sent me lunch – it was so easily done in that I didn’t have to make any decisions except to accept the hand that offered the help. I’m beyond grateful. That and the friends who brought or sent me a whole mix of things to make sure I could put stuff in a freezer for when I needed to eat, have been blessings. My bosses and colleagues who aren’t pushing me for stuff right now and who are being kind- so much needed. My cousin and aunt (Gamora’s fairy god mother and fairy god grandmother respectively) help me out with Gamora as we try to get new routines. For them too, significant loss was recent. Perhaps Gamora’s liveliness cheers them a little. I’ve a couple of friends who’re far away, one in the UK and the other in the US, who check in on me via WhatsApp. It really feels like they’re in the same room. Perhaps it’s because they’ve also seen significant loss that they say and do all the right things. It’s meant the world. In the scheme of things, all these have been amazing.

I cannot help but think of God. His diversity enables all this to happen. He appeared as fire to Moses in the burning bush, to Abraham when he sealed a covenant, and in Daniel’s vision. He was the pillar of fire that protected the Israelites at night. He was a pillar of cloud for the Israelites by day and when Moses went to Sinai. God was an earthquake to the imprisoned Paul and Silas, and even when Jesus died. God was the wind to Job, in the day of Pentecost, and was used in a lesson to Nicodemus. And he comes as a still small voice to Elijah. The amazing thing with Elijah, God shows us that He doesn’t only just start speaking into a situation. No. Initially, He sends an angel to feed Elijah. God does not come as an earthquake or fire or anything else at that point because it wasn’t what Elijah needed. Elijah needed sleep and food. God provided. This helps me as I receive help. Not all ‘help’ is good and helpful. Some of it is just the appearance of help. I must be wise – and I must remember how God does things. He is gentle on the soul. He cares for the broken-hearted. He’s not unkind and won’t seek to overwhelm my senses at this stage.

Mum’s passing gave me a bit of experience with grief. It isn’t the same now, given I’m in a different stage of life when I lost my dad. The pain that papa’s leaving brings is different. It is so painful. I can’t describe the dread inside when I think of going on without my dad. It has been hard enough without mum. These feelings and emotions must be allowed to be with me for awhile as an expression of how I feel after losing dad, and as I consider the impact of this loss on the rest of my life. They cannot be locked up or swept under a carpet. I won’t do that this time. It wasn’t the right move in the past. However, this time as I acknowledge these emotions, I see how God helps me through by sending me the care I need. It’s through souls that I’m very grateful for and I’m beyond appreciative that they aren’t in the fire, the earthquake or the wind. I’m grateful that the Lord has chosen to send them in the calm of the mornings, the stillness of the afternoons or in the quiet of the night.

I miss my father. I miss him a lot. I will grieve for him. This is the right thing to do. I’m grateful for those who are alongside me as I grieve.