Of Love and Loss

Across the dark gray sea
There’s a storm moving in
She walks by the water,
The waves are whipped by the wind

The cold rain is coming down
In a torrent, thick and fierce
Her sweater clings to her body
As she runs across the pier

She doesn’t think about the wood
Beneath her feet, slick as ice
She’s battling the wind to hide
The ache she feels inside
When grief grips her from within
She just breaks down and cries
Out of place in this world
Her heart is filled with hurt
And she’s lost sight of hope
How can she ever be whole?
Fighting this deep darkness
This sadness of the soul

The winter storm’s passed on
Making way for a sunny day
Still can’t warm the cold inside her
Or make the hurt go away
Today she’s running across the grass
Letting her hair fly in the wind
Hoping for a better tomorrow
Than the hell she’s living in

She doesn’t think about the cliffs
Overlooking the ocean shore
Trying to outrun her pain no matter
what danger she’s racing towards
Without warning she can feel
The ache taking hold
As out of place in this world
As a heart that’s never known hurt
Her spirit's crushed and dying
How can she ever be whole?
Fighting this deep darkness
This sadness of the soul

© Sandra Ruttan 2005

I am not a poet, but whenever I think about grief, I think about Sadness of the Soul. And lately, I've had cause to think about the pain of loss.

It started when I read To The Power of Three. That novel brought back an old pain and you'd never know that twenty+ years had passed since I'd been lying in emergency screaming my head off until a doctor told me to shut up or he'd cut my foot off. Given the options, I spent the next several hours gripping the side of the bed, biting my tongue, screaming in silence.

Thinking about my childhood is never a happy-go-lucky experience and any prolonged thought of my parents at all is verboten. So, going back to that day in the hospital took me home, and... Well, I've faced a loss, but not one I'm going to get into right now. I only mention it because a friend of mine brought it up recently, when she told me her father is dying.

Her father isn't that old. In fact, a few months ago, they had no idea anything was wrong. His parents are still alive and healthy. But in a matter of weeks he's come face to face with the inevitable, and they just got the news a few days ago. Right now, they don't even know how long he has.

It's hard to listen to a friend cry on the phone and know there is nothing you can do to ease that pain. There aren't magic formulas and proven phrases that will make the pain go away.

In fact, I think that's the problem most people have when they deal with grief. They want to make it go away, when grief is a process you have to work through. If you don't, it will always be there, lurking, waiting to sink it's teeth into you. And grief can be as paralyzing and debilitating as any illness. It can overwhelm you, and some succumb to it completely because they can't cope.

For my friend, this is the first real loss she's suffered. Her one grandfather died when she was a child. But there's never been anyone else close that she's had to deal with losing.

For me, the worst thing is watching someone faced with this journey, knowing that in the end you can't shoulder the pain for them. No matter what any one of us has been through in our lives, there is no measure of pain for each loss we suffer. There isn't a cosmic balance that says, "loss of friend: 79 days of mourning entitled". Grief is, in that respect, entirely personal.

Someone told me once when I was coping with a loss that I'd had enough time and should "get over it." It's laughable now, but it wasn't then. If you've been through the stages of grief, then no doubt you've seen that look some people get in their eye, the one that says they'd rather run a 10k marathon in a snowstorm than have to look into your eyes and be confronted with your pain.

It's the look that kept one of my friends from going to her church when her daughter was dying. It's a look my husband saw a lot of when his brother died. It's the look that CS Lewis wrote about after he lost his wife.

And, no doubt, it's a look that my friend is starting to become familiar with.

I suppose none of us like to be reminded of our own mortality but it can be a good thing to take stock, to pause for a moment and remember how much you have to be thankful for today. Tomorrow, you never know. It could all be gone.

Just remember when you have a friend facing loss, the things they need are not your avoidance of the issue or Hallmark words of wisdom. They need shoulders and they need ears.

You can't carry their pain for them, but the feeling of isolation that comes from having others withdraw from you as though you have the plague can be almost as crushing as the loss you're coping with. Don't recite hollow sentiments or think of ways to avoid them for the next few months. Just being there saying nothing at all lets them know they aren't alone.

And to those who stood by me, that meant a lot then. And it still does. XO