In all seasons, people are important but there’s a heightened in hard times. When tragedy strikes we tend to rally around people and stand closely but once the ‘worst’ is over, we all go back to life.

The most challenging day when you lose a loved one, after the day they die, is the day after the burial. You have been surrounded by people from the day of death to the day of the burial. They visit, sit around, tell stories, and make you laugh and cry as they remember your loved one with you. They cook, clean, shop for you, and fill our house with so much bread and milk you could feed a school. It is a revolving door of entertaining that if you are not careful, you will burn out before the longest day of your life.

On that burial day, a large crowd gathers to help you give a befitting send-off with glowing tributes, soulful songs, sometimes dirges, sermons, processions, lowering of the casket, a handful of soil and then that hollow sound of soil hitting the casket. Ah…it is like a sharp serrated knife stabbed into your heart twisted, pulled out and repeated with every thud as everyone wants to put their contribution in.

Next is to fill the grave with soil, after all, it is dust to dust we go, accompanied by mournful songs because we can’t muster the strength to be joyful. We lay wreaths of flowers and plant single buds so everyone has the chance to pay their last respects and tearfully say goodbye. As this happens the food station opens because we cannot send people home without something little and slowly the mournful sounds turn to quiet laughter and conversation. A pat on the back, a hug, promises to call, sighs of sadness, and everyone quietly slips away back to their homes and off to mind their business.

Evening passes and morning arises with a deep, ten-foot-thick, solid wall of silence. No hooting, no open doors, no people to make you a meal, no questions about how you slept or if you slept…nothing. Everyone is GONE. Where? Back to their lives. They have done their solemn duty after slowing down their lives for some days, now they must go back to make up for the work they missed, the money they didn’t make, the meetings they didn’t attend, they have to get it back.

Oh, it is indeed right that they do but what do we do with our pain now? How do we deal with the reminder that we are no longer whole? Who will check on us daily? Who will cry with us? Who will walk with us? How will we get up in the morning? Who will help us sort through the clothes and belongings? Will we throw or give them away? Will we get overwhelmed in the middle and just give up? Who will help follow the death certificate and benefits? How will we generate income for next month?

I don’t think anyone means to forget the bereaved, rather I think we are consumed by life…our lives. I pray we can be more deliberate about caring for the bereaved. I will be different knowing what I know now from walking down that path. Many people don’t know what to do so let me share a few thoughts:

• The day after the burial, check in on your friend…a text is likely best, a simple reminder they are loved and thought of
• In the weeks to come check on them often…call, text
• Show up and just sot with them, don’t talk a lot, just be there often
• Hug them as much as they are comfortable with.
• Less is more, if you don’t know what to say, sit quietly.
• Do some chores for or with them.
• Call and if the call is not picked up, don’t keep calling, rather send a message.

Loving people is more powerful when you show up and respond to actual needs not perceived needs. Love is more an action word than a feeling. Love in times of hardship is better expressed by pressure-free physical presence.

Talking about a loved one in the past tense is very hard. It reminds you that they are gone in the body so we cannot see, feel or hear from them again. I am still unpacking that one because it brings up emotions and sadness many times. 

It is interesting how every loss affects the individual differently. One passing could trigger anger, another tears, another laughter, another relief, and yet another nothing at all.  Yet it is still final.

I remember laughing about how some communities around here grieve. On the eve of the burial, they stay up all night singing, crying, celebrating and remembering the person. At one such event, they made us all laugh saying:

Na simu yake sasa ni mteja (now her phone is not reachable) uuuuuiiiiiwwwwwi.

Na ukimwita hataitika (if you call her she will not answer) uuuuuiiiiiwwwwwi.

Ukimtafuta hautampata (if you look for her you won’t find her) uuuuuiiiiiwwwwwi.

The leader then broke into singing and dancing for 10 minutes after that as people laughed, cried and just began to settle into the reality that this person is indeed gone for good. By the following day, mourners who had stayed up all night had processed some of the grief and were in a better place which was a little perplexing to those arriving in the morning.

There is no easy way to deal with the finality of a sealed grave and the flowers on top. There is no easy way to wake up in the morning and know that a wake-up call or text or silly emoji is not coming. There is nothing that makes the empty room but a full wardrobe better or easier. It is so final…so final.

The finality of death is contrary to the reality that God is in control.

God is the only one who can heal our hearts, dry our tears and calm our fears. It is countered over time and rarely in an instant. I am not sure that time heals, I actually think it cannot. God is the healer and the one who turns all things into good. Right now I may not see it well but I choose to believe that indeed he is the only one able and willing to heal. 

I choose to believe! Even with tears flowing and questions raging…I choose to believe. Even while going through the most unbelievable pain I have ever known and an inexplicable sadness…I choose to believe.

People who are well-meaning often say the silliest things in times of grief.

I know you have heard and likely say things to people grieving thinking they are helpful but many times they are not. Some of the most common ones I find strange are:

• Do not cry…be strong
• God loved them more so he took them
• Be strong for your father/mother
• I am so sorry
• Make sure you stay united
• You must talk about it
• You need to snap out of it

Yes, the statements may make space in some contexts but they are not universally ok. Let me explain a few.

If you know me well enough and you are aware that I come from a close-knit family, taking care of my mother is a given, not an option, so please do not tell me to take care of her…I already am. We are working on a plan that is only visible in the family and you will see the results later on when she is more lively.

I will cry be sure of that; silent tears, wails from my belly, torrents in the watches of the night, wails in the arms of people I know love and uphold me. Nothing you say will stop me because tears cleanse the eyes and the soul by letting out the pain. If you do not like tears, stand back or walk away.

I will talk about it, but you may not be the one I talk to. If we haven’t been close in the last few years, do not expect me to pour my heart out to you. Oh, we can have conversations and I will tell you stories but do not expect the saddest parts to be shared with you. Pray for me as I deal but do not expect it too much.

God loved them so he took them, so are you saying he doesn’t love us? One thing that fascinates me is grief’s irrational nature. Things that would make sense when I wasn’t in this state will trigger visceral reactions while grieving. Faith that made sense when it was all smooth is on the threshing floor now so be careful when approaching.

If you think someone has grieved for too long never, and I say it again, NEVER tell them to snap out of it. In counselling, I learnt that the minimum grieving time is three, yes 3, years. So if three years haven’t passed and I am not spiralling into depression, please step back…I will be fine.

Let us learn to give people space to grieve in whichever way works for them, how they want and according to their personality. I am not one given to crying in public and no, I rarely wail. So If you are a wailer and roller, do not expect me to be like you or judge the depth of my grief. If you cannot see where I get the strength to laugh in this season, do not assume I am alone…there is likely an ecosystem around me that is working to support me.

Bottom line…be careful and sensitive when you speak with the bereaved…you may get sidelined for life.

We are likely never ready for grief even when it is expected. We often underestimate how deeply we feel and closely we love people until they are gone. Even when we have told them how much we love them, the finality of death is on a level that shocks and shakes us to the core yet it is only one level of grief.

Grief is experienced from the loss of anything that is of value to us. When we lose relationships, actual things, jobs, dreams…anything we have placed a value on, there is a deep measure of grief. It is driven by the perceived finality of the situation at that moment and in the future. Most of the rest a reversible but death is the one that hurts the most and is irreversible.

So if we can never adequately prepare for grief, what can we do? 

We can live life as if we are in our last days…with abandon and absolute commitment. We must say everything we need to say, to whoever we need to say it to and never hold back in our communications. Do not think I am endorsing being mean to people in the way we deal with people; not at all. I mean letting people know how important they are to us and how much we value them.

We enjoy every day to the fullest. Smell the roses, sit in the sun, run in the rain, catch the seeds as they fall, harvest fruits from a tree, and just live life. Enjoy the relationships with a cup of coffee outdoors, a shared bowl of ice cream, a split piece of cake, and an evening by the fire.

We can forgive one another and let go of the drama. I know that a measure of drama adds spice to life but too much drama is tedious and drains our energy. So we must let go of the arrogance, drama, and hardness, then choose to live in a place of brokenness, hang on to the good and let go of the bad and the ugly. Allow people to walk away when they want to even if you may still want them around. 

I choose to work through the grief and pain so that it doesn’t break me.