“Good grief” isn’t an oxymoron. It can bring you a whole new perspective.
—
Charles Schultz’s character Charlie Brown has a phrase he used frequently, “Good grief.” That sounds like an oxymoron, sharing ranks with “jumbo shrimp”, “pretty ugly,” and “same difference.” However, I’ve come to the conclusion that “good grief” isn’t an oxymoron. Maybe that’s because I can be commonly heard saying the phrase, but I think it holds some value. Allow me to explain why.
Grief has the connotation of being something negative. Especially when we assign it to situations where grief is common. When are times in your life that you’ve been through the grieving process? Maybe you can relate to some of these: when the family pet died; your dad got a job transfer and you had to leave your school and friends; you didn’t make the team but your closest friends did; the acceptance letter from your most desired college didn’t come; you received a “pink slip” at work; your spouse left; your child received an unexpected, life-altering diagnosis; one of your parents passed away.
If you’re old enough to read this, then you’ve likely had a brush with grief. Unfortunately, it’s part of this life.
|
If you’re old enough to read this, then you’ve likely had a brush with grief. Unfortunately, it’s part of this life.
Facing the situation and actually working through the grief process is a necessary and healthy thing. Many decades ago, this was brought to the forefront through an important work by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her 1969 book “On Death and Dying.” Since then, the topic has been closely studied and for good reason: we all go through it some way or another. So if we all go through the grief process, we should be supportive of one another.
I’ve had my share of loss in my forty-something journey on this globe. But it’s been in recent years that I’ve learned the value in grieving. I’ve learned that it’s ebb and flow and not a staunch seven-step process. Some days are better than others. But I know that if I don’t grieve and learn to let go, I’ll be miserable, with no hope for recovery.
Our family has two children with special needs. The oldest has a rare eye disorder that leaves her with low vision. She has functional vision, so I am beyond grateful for that. But having low vision limits her. She isn’t currently able to drive a car (on just that one point, think about how much that would alter your life). She’s limited in the kinds of occupations she can have. Getting around in the dark is downright dangerous. Over the 18 years we’ve dealt with this, we’ve had to grieve and let go of things that her normal-sighted peers could do or could have that are not even an option for her. To bring up the driving thing again, that’s just hard; she will forever be dependent on other means of transportation.
If I don’t grieve and learn to let go, I’ll be miserable, with no hope for recovery.
|
Our youngest child has the same vision impairment as his oldest sister. He also has autism. So not only does he face the same vision-related struggles, but he is challenged in other ways. At this time, he’s not quite five years old yet, so we can’t accurately predict his future. Will he ever be able to play any kind of sport if he wanted to? Will peers make fun of him at school? Will he ever be able to live on his own? Get married, have a family of his own? I don’t know. Nobody knows. So I have to work through the grief process to be ok with the idea that things may not always go the way I’d like for them to in regard to my son.
Just in case you’ve needed someone to tell you: it’s OK to grieve. Go ahead and have a good cry. Scream! Punch a pillow. Let it all out. Raw emotion is human, it’s necessary, and it’s healing. If you’re not the demonstrative type, then write it all out. If you want to, write a letter to God and tell him how hurt and ticked off you are. He can take it, and won’t love you any less. Whatever you need to do in order to work through being able to grieve and let go, then do it. It’ll be good. Good grief.
If you are in the position to grieve over lost dreams or goals in regard to your special needs loved one, by all means, take that healthy step. But you can’t stop there. You cannot wallow in self-pity or cry about your woes forever. You must dry your eyes, pick yourself up, and move forward. It’s healthy to work through grief, but that means you don’t stay there. You can find a “silver lining” to your cloud.
It’s healthy to work through grief, but that means you don’t stay there. You can find a “silver lining” to your cloud.
|
You can find the good in your situation if you look for it. Because of my children’s disabilities, I am more sensitive to those who have struggles. I am more proactive in advocating for the “underdog.” My son with autism has taught me some very valuable lessons, and one of them is patience. Another is true unconditional love. There isn’t a day that goes by that I’m not thankful for him and how much joy he has added to our lives; he has truly completed our family.
These are just a few of the blessings in disguise that were delivered through difficulties. If you honestly try to find some good in adversity, you’ll see it. But if you’ve given it your best shot and still come up short, ask someone close to you to help point it out. Sometimes we just need another’s vantage point in order to see the good in grief.
—
Photo: Getty
Would you like to help us shatter stereotypes about men?
Receive stories from The Good Men Project, delivered to your inbox daily or weekly.