Gravespitting

You’re spitting on her grave.

That’s what the text message said.

No, I’m actually not kidding.

There’s a chapter in my new book titled, “Gravespitting & Other Symptoms,” in which I tell the story behind this fateful message. The following excerpt from that chapter offers a brief glimpse into my tormented existence at the time; it was nearly 9 months after Kailen’s death when I received the text, and the story picks up on a warm summer night – me lying flat on my back porch, broken and numb, the sprawling sky above me dark and starless:

I drew a deep breath, smelled the subtle scents of the summer night wafting all around me. Someone was grilling-out down the street. Someone else had recently mowed their grass. In the distance, far beyond my neighborhood, I heard the rattle and clank of a train.

This is what my world had become: a summation of senses. It was the best my anesthetized mind could manage. I was warm, pleasantly drifting, but I had fallen short of my goal – I wasn’t numb. Not completely. Alcohol may force the brain into submission, drown it with dopamine and distractions, but no amount of fermentation can numb the soul.

I glanced into the pale light above me and suddenly felt liquid on my lips. Was it raining? Had I vomited? No. I was crying – had been for some time – and didn’t even know it.

What the brain forgets, the soul remembers.

No matter how drunk I became (and there were days I tried quite hard), the deeper parts of me, the soul-deep parts, would never forget the words.

Will never forget them.

They had arrived in a text message a few days prior. The words that made the spirit within me like the sky above me: dark and starless. The words that made me a stranger, even to myself.

I rolled to one side and dug the phone from my pocket, squinted against the brightness of the screen, and thumbed down to it.

Grimacing, I closed my eyes and read the message from memory:

“You’re spitting on her grave.”

Of all the lies grievers are told in the wake of loss, the suggestion that they are dishonoring or disgracing their dead loved one is among the most damaging. And, if I do say so myself, among the most disgusting.

Life after loss is confusing. It’s complicated. It’s disorienting. It’s a type of emotional schizophrenia. And many times, those forced to live after loss don’t actually want to; they would never choose this life they’ve been given, but alas, it was given to them just the same.

Every griever feels like a violation.

The last thing they need is your confirmation of that feeling.

Clearly the text message I received is an overt example, but for the grieving heart, every act of disapproval, no matter how small, tells the same story:

You don’t belong here. Not anymore.

When they start dating again, when they have another child, when they move or take a new job, when they sell the house and the car, when they give old clothes to Goodwill. These are the moments that pique our disapproval.

Well, that’s too soon. Or it’s too late. Or it’s the wrong person. Or it’s the wrong place. How selfish. How could they possibly forget so soon?

If you’ve had these thoughts, or are having them now, you are not a bad person or even a bad friend. These emotions, these temptations of disapproval, are simply manifestations of your own grief experience. You’re hurting; you miss the person that died; you can’t make sense of it.

Now, take a step back and realize that you’re grieving friend, the person whose actions you disapprove of, is feeling the exact same things.

They’re hurting. They miss the person that died. They can’t make sense of it.

Let me encourage you this week – if you have someone in your life who has experienced a tragic loss, humbly affirm their continued attempts at life. When new milestones come – dating, a move, or otherwise – learn to congratulate, not crucify.

Effective grief support requires immense grace and vast humility. And the time to start is now.

Because life after loss is not a violation, but simply a necessary continuation. No one is spitting on any graves by continuing to breathe, and dream, and hope, and love. These are the essential elements of life.

For only a life lived with love can disarm the crushing power of death.

A fellow journeyer,

Bryan

For book updates, and an opportunity to join The Lazarus Within launch team, simply fill out the form below!