Off the contact list: Taking as much time as needed to grieve

                        
Don't you hate to delete names from your address book or phone list or cell phone if someone dies?
I just deleted the name of a friend and work colleague from a list of people to whom I send quarterly Another Way updates. The last time I sent one of the updates in April, Carol was still living and I sent the update to the nursing home where she was living, hoping someone would be able to read the comments and stories to her for a little diversion.
Then Carol died in May after suffering the excruciating losses of Lou Gehrig's disease. She was a dear and devoted fan of this column. She kept my work for Another Way in her prayers and I always appreciated that. But she did the exact same thing for many other people, ministries and causes—sending encouraging notes and e-mails and doing nice little things like putting printed copies of my column in Mom's church mailbox as long as Carol was physically able.
Back to deleting names. After Dad died several years ago, for the longest time I couldn't bring myself to remove his name from my cell phone contact list. When I dialed Vernon Miller in calling Mom, I always experienced a little jab, but in a way it was a nice reminder of Dad's continuing spirit and presence on the "other side." It felt like a connection I could hang on to. If I deleted him, what did that say? Finally, when I got a new cell phone, I simply entered Mom's name into my contact list. It was time to move on in that regard, while still treasuring my memories of him.
I have a seven-year-old church phone directory and it is stunning to go through that list and see all the names (15) that have been x-ed out just in the last seven years from our small church of about 150. That happens in a church with many elderly members.
One man who lost his brother to suicide talked about how, over time, he was better able to deal with the horrific loss. At first he thought about his brother every waking hour and even in his dreams, if he could sleep at all. But over time, he said he certainly thought about his brother weekly, but after 10-12 years he would usually think about him mostly on his birthday, at family gatherings and holidays. David said he likes to use the word "integrate" in talking about adjusting to the death of a very close loved one, rather than "getting over it." You change your life and adjust to the loss, but you always want the memory of that person, their existence, and their impact on you to be there.
But I think there is a tendency, in our culture, to want to move on too fast, to "get over it." Sometimes we don't even pause to grieve at a funeral or memorial service or wake—especially when the death is expected and a blessed relief after many months or years of suffering. Laughter and joking and teasing is a common occurrence even visiting the graveside or coffin in such situations.
Pat said she missed not being able to grieve for a friend at a memorial service. The service moved quickly into celebrating the life of the one who had died. "They wouldn't have wanted us to be sad," we sometimes hear. That may be true and all well and good, but pausing and letting yourself experience the grief and the loss can be helpful to long term healing.
And so I think it is okay to keep names on your personal lists as long as you want them there. "It's my way of remembering Grandma" or "I think I'll just leave it there a little while longer," might be an appropriate way to respond to anyone who questions you about it. If you still haven't disturbed the clothing or the room of a loved one after several years, (three, five, 10?) though, you might want to have the help of a friend to do so. Or the help of a counselor if you are dealing with ongoing depression brought on by grief.
So, on second thought, I think I'll push the "undo" button on the document with that list with Carol's name on it. There. Her name instantly pops back into the list. I think I'll keep her memory fresh just a little longer; no harm in that. I'll use it as a quarterly reminder to infuse my life with some of her goodness and giving spirit, and send an encouraging note to someone else.
With the holidays coming up, if you or someone you know is facing their first holiday season without a loved one, write for the free booklet, "Getting Through the Holidays After the Death of a Loved One." We'll be happy to send you one or several, but we ask that you send it to your friend yourself. Request copies from Another Way, Box 22, Harrisonburg, VA 22803 or e-mail me at melodied@ThirdWayMedia.org (Include the name of your paper in your response.)
You can also visit Another Way on the Web at www.thirdway.com.
Melodie Davis is the author of seven books and has written Another Way since 1987. She and her husband have three adult daughters.


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