By Patsy Kelly
We all feel it — the press of time — whenever we look at a clock, watch or phone and feel anxious that we’re late, missing something or won’t possibly be able to squeeze in one more thing by the deadline, whatever that means. The irony is that humanity causes this dilemma, if we want to be honest. We created time — or we began to measure time, and thought of clever ways to monitor it. We began to set for ourselves deadlines, E.T.A.s, E.T.D.s, happy hours, countdowns, opening and closing times … you name it! We’ve set a time for it and a means to track it — from the hourglass to the Fitbit.
No one feels this more profoundly than one who grieves. We hear, “It’s time to think about yourself,” “Time heals” or “Isn’t it time for you to move on?” The press of time is at our backs, urging us to catch up with the rest of the world who has gone ahead with life.
But we who grieve are often not ready to move on. We’ve forgotten how to think about ourselves.
And no! Time does not heal. Period.
Grief is not a disease to be rid of. It is an experience of life we go through and carry with us. The pain may grow more gentle at times, perhaps; but it does not miraculously disappear.
Timekeepers in our circles do us harm. They urge us to get on with our lives, perhaps because our grief makes them uncomfortable. Whatever the reason, their concern is misplaced. Their promptings leave us with the idea that we aren’t enough for them as we are. We know we are broken, undone and functioning as though we are in need of a recharge. That doesn’t mean we can be sent back to the dealership to be overhauled. We aren’t able, at least not yet, to repackage ourselves somehow in order to appear healed, glued back together so others can relax again. It’s the wrong message.
We can never put away our loved one in safe-keeping, like a treasured Christmas ornament, to be taken out once a year and remembered. We carry our loved one within us, like a priceless ache. The cherished love that is always there has two faces. The positive aspect fills us with gratitude that we were able to share a life with them. But the painful aspect leads us to feel the ache, because their absence leaves a space that was once filled to overflowing and is now gaping and hollow.
Please, don’t urge grievers to “move on” or remind us: “You still have time and a life to live.” Allow us the generosity of sharing our sorrow, even if it is one you do not completely understand, and even if all you can offer is your silence, which often speaks more tenderly than any words. After all, we’ve already heard far too many words.
For more information on grief or inquiry about the Grief Group, send your email to griefgroupjax@gmail.com.
