Living With Grief

This is an excerpt from the chapter Living With Grief by Feliz Lucas from the book This Season of Grief.

I will use my experience of having a painful stiff neck as a metaphor for grief to help us better visualize the concept of grief. There are three lessons I learned from my journey with grief and this present pain of my stiff neck: Tightening, Warmth, and Stretching. 

TIGHTENING

A muscle tightens as a response to something it has lost. Going through grief feels like all your muscles are tightening. Your chest tightens, as if you were on the top of Mount Everest. You try to breathe while trying to find warmth in a very cold environment. You cannot think clearly and cannot find answers to your questions. But this is not the time for answers; this is the time to grieve. At this time, we need to acknowledge the tightening, the loss of warmth, and the confusion. 

Just like with a stiff neck or any other physical pain, you need to identify where it hurts. With grief, you have to purge the pain. Like a boil, pain becomes deadlier if you keep the pus in. You have to purge out the pus. This will be uncomfortable, you will want to run away from it. You will feel as if you cannot go through it but you have to. Because purging the pain of grief heals. Cry and scream if you have to. Allow yourself to grieve. 

Remember, even Jesus grieved. At the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus struggled in prayer and yet surrendered to His Father. He questioned and surrendered at the same time. He cried and asked His Father not just once but thrice if it were possible to take the cup of suffering away from Him. Was there a way? A different way? If God had wanted to, He could. Jesus asked and asked and asked, and yet in the end He said, “But let Your will be done.” This is how I believe one must grieve. 

Your pain is valid. Purge the pain. When you purge your pain, it clears your mind and heart and opens you to hear the answers the Holy Spirit is telling you and filling you. Once you have purged the pain, fill your heart with the truth of God’s Word. I believe God is most pleased when we worship Him even while we are in pain. 

WARMTH

My search for the fastest way of relief for my stiff neck is similar to my experience of trying to relieve myself of the pain of grief. I wanted a way out immediately. But just like with any kind of tightening, one-time warmth cannot solve the problem. Warmth needs to be applied regularly, with proper intervals, because too much of it can cause burns. How do we relate this to grief then? A friend, counselor, coach, or family member is the warmth that a grieving person needs. 

Here, I’d like to address those who are ministering to the grieving. As a friend, you must remember that you are not the savior who will bring relief to the grieving person. 

Be a coach. Your grieving friend is the professional. You simply need to coach your friend back to what she knew all along. Ask well-thought-out questions but don’t give the answers. Instead, talk about the person who lived. As with any bereaved, there is always the fear that our loved one will be forgotten. So yes, it’s OK to talk about the loved one who passed away. It is perfectly alright to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?” Be the warmth that allows your friend to grieve without judgement. When your friend asks, “Why, why, why?” remember that you as a coach isn’t there to answer the questions but to help her find the answers. 

Remember that warmth is neither too cold nor too hot. Warmth is mindful with its words, speaking of truth and not giving false hopes. It allows one to feel the pain while being in the pain. The purpose of warmth is not to solve but to comfort. By acknowledging the pain, we loosen the tightness that one feels. 

STRETCHING

My physical therapist explained that our muscles are like rubber bands. When a muscle is tight and non-moving, it’s like it’s in the freezer. Once you take it out and immediately stretch it, one thing happens—it breaks. We need warmth and time before we stretch—this is the solution to a stiff neck. 

My stiff neck is so painful that I can’t turn my neck to sleep. I have to call my husband because I couldn’t move nor get up from bed. I want to sleep because I’m drowsy but the thought of sleeping is also difficult. But I have to face the pain through a warm compress, then slowly stretch my neck, and ask my husband to lift and support my neck and back while I take a deep breath and feel the pain. The next part is important: I have to stretch and move. It is painful, but the more I exercise my muscles, the less I feel the pain. My muscles then become loose enough to move. 

At the early onset of grief, we become immobile. We fall asleep in tears. We forget meals. We want to sleep longer in order to stay in dreamland and be in a different reality. The longer we stay asleep and “frozen in time” because of grief, the more the tightening worsens. 

When we welcome the warmth of friends, family, a worship song, or a book like this to comfort us and tell us that we are not alone, that someone out there is grieving with us, and that we and our loved one are remembered, respected, and prayed for, then we decide that we want to get up. 

But at first, we don’t know how. So we ask the warmest of friends to hold us up, to walk with us. Eventually, these friends slowly loosen their hold, and we start to walk on our own, rediscovering what we know how to do all along— walking and moving our once tight muscles. 

Stretching and exercising the body reminds it of what it already knows all along—to move. The same goes for stretching and exercising our heart in grief: We remind our heart what it knows all along—to love. No wonder, a grieving person is the most compassionate of all. A grieving person can exercise and stretch out his or her love to others. 

If you are bereaved, grieve with those who are grieving and journey with the depressed. Practice what the grieving know they have to do and what they are made to do—to journey with another, to walk together and discover the truth, focusing on the light that is Jesus. 

In this season of grief, many have suffered different kinds of loss.

We’ve suffered the loss of the physical—loved ones, our health, income, possessions. We’ve suffered the loss of the intangibles— freedom, memories, justice, peace. We’ve also suffered the loss of the ambiguous; we know we have lost them even though we could not name them. We feel all these losses and cry out in a collective, pandemic grief.

This book comes alongside those grieving many kinds of loss — not as an authority hurriedly dismissing a grief but rather, as a gentle friend who says, “I understand…”

Through stories, poetry, prayers, and practical help, this book brings comfort and hope to those languishing in this season of grief.

With writings by:

Ang Tala
Albit Rodriguez
Annabel Manzanilla-Manalo
Carmelo “Mel” Caparros II
Dan Andrew S. Cura
Feliz Lucas
Francis Kristoffer L. Pasion
Ida Torres
J.M.
j. p. berame
Joanna Nicolas-Na
Joey L. Castillo, Jr.
Jophen Baui
Joyce Tongson-Manalang
Karen Huang
Larry Pabiona
Lourdes Batac
Maloi Malibiran-Salumbides
Maria Susan Gonzalez-Lim
Maria Teresa Banzagales-Abiva
Melba Padilla Maggay
Melvin Jansen Ang
Michellan Sarile-Alagao
nathania aritao
Nicodemo S. Estrada
Philip Manuelson D. Arandia
Rico Villanueva
Timothy Ervin T. Ngo
Yna S. Reyes

Foreword by: Cathy Babao