5 Things That 5 Years of Grief Recovery Have Taught Me

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” —C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

July 26, 2017, five years ago today, is the day I lost my mom, Vivian Scoles, to liver cancer. It rocked my world like nothing has before or since. There’s an acute stabbing pain and a sense of clarity, rather like lifting a veil from the world, that comes from losing such a close family member, especially the one who gave birth to you.

Grief is such a strange and fragmented experience—appropriate, since it’s the way our bodies handle brokenness. It feels like walking through a thick marsh of memories now tinged with sadness while also feeling emotionally hungover, vulnerable, and mentally muddled. The puzzle pieces of life stop fitting together for a while, and you’re never sure how long “a while” is going to end up being.

I remember returning home that day and seeing her purse and sweater still hanging from the back of her dining room chair, unable to process that she was just…gone. And I remember vividly dreaming many times over the course of the year that followed that my mom had survived her last day, somehow escaping that ICU bed.

It’s hard to believe that five years have passed since that day. Such a short time. Such a long time. Since then, my family has lost other beloved members and gained new ones.

Over that time, I have learned many things and struggled with spiritual warfare. Fear of dying young without having accomplished everything I want to do with my life overtook me for a time, adding to the laundry list of other things I already feared (i.e. losing relationships). Fear still governs many of my decisions, though I’m daily working on changing that by the power of the Holy Spirit. The last five years have taught me several valuable life lessons that I hope will help me live a good adult life.

Don’t Go It Alone

Mom’s death was the catalyst that changed many aspects of my life. I entered into a recovery program called Celebrate Recovery and sought out mental health counseling. I began joining other people in their pain, finding solace in suffering together, encouraging one another, and finding hope in the midst of all of it.

Through the grieving process, I discovered many other things that needed to change in my life. I had many hurts, hangups, and habits that were getting in the way of my relationship with God, and the best way to evict them was to face them in the context of community, not hold them within myself and become a rocky, emotionless island.

Let People In

Grief often makes us not want to let people see what we’re really dealing with underneath the façade we show the world. While it definitely makes a difference to surround yourself with loved ones, it makes even more of a difference if you let those people see the real you—if you allow yourself to become intentionally vulnerable for the purpose of healing.

Many people have come into my life to exemplify what it means to live in this way and to offer love and support: new mentors and new friends with who I could walk through the struggles of life. I let people in, and I’ve not regretted it once.

Memento Mori

Memento Mori, or “Remember Death”, is a Latin phrase that reminds us of the truth God spoke to our first parents in Genesis: Dust we are, and to dust we will return. Nothing in this world will completely satisfy our souls, and we will take none of our possessions with us when we pass on—not even our bodies! The one thing that will fulfill us is not of this world: God, Yahweh, Creator and Sustainer of all life.

But other things will try to elbow their way in and take over with momentary meaning that will do little for us in the long run. Find meaning in things that last and that make a difference, in experiences, memories, and serving others. Do things that matter, in the name of the One who created all meaning.

Let Stuff Go

For a long time, I was (and to an extent, still am) imprisoned by stuff: possessions and covetous desire that makes me long for that which I don’t have, along with nonphysical things like mental and spiritual burdens and vices. I so easily fail to remember that I already have free access to God, the one thing, the one person, who will ultimately satisfy and fulfill me.

I don’t want to be tied down and overburdened by things that will just collect dust. That’s not to say I shouldn’t still have things, but I can’t allow them to own my life, define my decisions, or unduly influence my emotions.

Let God In

Last but certainly not least. And this seems obvious to me since I’m a Christian, but I know it’s not obvious or even sensible to everyone. Still, it worked for me. As a child, my parents helped me build a foundation in Jesus that even my mom’s death couldn’t shatter. It was hard to let God into my grief. Often, I felt like He wasn’t even there. But He was. He listened to my ranting and caught every one of my tears. He sent His people to take care of me and my family and join us in our pain.

Over time, that pain became part of my personal testimony and ministry. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s been hard to let God in because of all the lies and distractions from the world that tend to fill my head. But whenever I do, I experience peace and satisfaction unlike anything else.

Grieving takes many forms, and you don’t have to lose a loved one to experience it. Dying to ourselves everyday, as Christ commanded, will cause us a lot of grief. But in the end, it will be worth it when we come to understand that when we lose the temporary, God will give us the eternal.

In memory of Vivian Scoles

August 29, 1955-July 26, 2017