Grief is a complicated thing. When most people hear the word, they immediately think of death and losing a loved one. It is something that happens to all of us at some point, and it hurts…BAD. There is no way to avoid it or get around it. You have to move through it at your own pace and in your own way. But sometimes we don’t pay enough attention to the kind of grief that can sneak up on you or linger for a long time because we don’t call it what it is. There will be times when we don’t just grieve people we’ve lost, we grieve the loss of an experience, a hope, a dream, an identity.
The parents who must say goodbye to their children when they leave for college and are forever changed. The woman who files for divorce and seeks to find her true self again after tying her identity to another person for many years. The man who has lost his job and worries that his family will no longer respect him as their provider and protector. The couple who has chosen to stay in their marriage despite infidelity. How can they find themselves again without viewing everything as “Before IT happened” or “After IT happened?”
Seeing someone you care about go through these things can be hard. There will be difficult conversations when we are walking alongside a dear friend or loved one who is experiencing grief. I certainly don’t claim to have all the answers and I know that I still struggle with feelings about painful experiences that happened many years ago. Memories are funny that way. It can be a picture, a song, or even a smell that can trigger something. Suddenly you’re back in time, feeling the loss as if it were happening right in this moment.
When my struggles with my eating disorder began a few years ago, I was grieving several things: I was grieving the fact that I would likely never bear children again, the fact that our marriage seemed lost (praise God it wasn’t), and the fact that the person who helped heal my running injury was no longer a part of my life. The grief weighed heavy on me because I did not feel it was valid. I felt that I had to shove my feelings down so no one would know the extent of my pain. I have worked hard to process these feelings and, while they still come up from time to time, they are less intense.
As I sit here tonight, a new wave of grief has come. I am struck at how remarkably short life can be. My friend just turned 40 years old in November and, after losing her battle with Angiosarcoma, has now gone Home to be with Jesus. Her friends and family face the reality of no longer being able to hug her, laugh with her, or hear her voice. While this friend is not someone I saw often over the last ten years, she holds a special place in my heart. We worked together when I had my first temp job at a day program for adults with disabilities. Neither of us knew if we would stay at the job, but we ended up liking it and eventually became coworkers. Our hearts for helping others made us friends and our love for the Packers, country music, and all things chocolate kept us together, even when miles apart. She has faced many challenges in her life and I always tried to make her laugh and smile through the challenges. She inspired me to work harder on my attitude because I wanted to be a positive influence for her. We may be opposites in some ways, but common interests or temperaments aren’t necessary to stay friends. Our hearts can recognize kindness and compassion beyond the outer shells. I will remember her forever. Until we meet again, friend.
Redefined Runner 
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