grief: n. a deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement

facet: n. a particular part or aspect (as of something being contemplated or considered)

Though it may initially feel like it, grief is not just one singular creature, a massive beast that takes over our emotions . . . and our lives. When it enters our world, it affects us in a variety of ways, for an undetermined length of time. Loss creates complexity, and that complexity is apparent as we deal with it.

Grief is sticky. It’s like the container of maple syrup I dropped when I was newly married. Hitting the floor with a smack, it exploded, splattering the thick, caramel-colored stuff all over the kitchen. Cleaning up the mess took forever. I thought I thoroughly scrubbed its far-reaching results, but for months after, I would touch a surface and find gooey droplets far removed from the original crime scene.

Grief behaves the same way, revealing itself at random moments when you brush a memory . . . or the memory brushes you. The sticky cannot be ignored as you deal with its residue. Left unattended, it does not go away and allows other issues to accumulate and stack in place.

I have no idea how I got to be seventy-eight without experiencing grief. But I did. I’ve lost plenty of family including my parents and grandparents. Sadness visited, but grief was neither my partner nor sidekick. Sadness and grief are not equivalent.

My friend and partner of six years passed away two-and-a-half years ago. We did not share decades of life together, raising a family with a history of mutual friendships and shared experiences. I never considered the possibility of grieving his loss. After all, I knew of his terminal condition for quite some time and prepared for the inevitable. I honestly thought my life would continue on, without skipping a beat. The truth is–it skipped a lot of beats. I was not prepared to grieve. As my daughter so wisely expressed, “It’s not the years but the moments.”

Grief is universal. It is not exclusive to a specific culture, ethnicity, financial status, or chronological age. Generally speaking, all of humankind experiences, to some degree, the results of loss and the empty hole it leaves. It may be outliving a family member, friend, or companion pet. Loss, however, isn’t limited to the passing of a loved one. Perhaps it is the result of losing a home due to fire, flood, or financial circumstances; the estrangement of a family member who has made choices detrimental to not only self but siblings and parents; a situation where a company downsizes, and one is “no longer needed” as an employee. Loss and its ensuing grief can be staggering and brutal.

Grief is also solitary and personal. It’s like childbirth. A doula might be present to give support and encouragement, but the mother is the only one experiencing the delivery of a new life. And it happens to her, as that process takes place. So it is with grief. Friends and family willingly and lovingly provide support and shoulders to lean and cry on, but the inexplicable process of grieving cannot be shared.

Grief is unpredictable. A landmine of emotions can be hair triggered, set to go off by anything and everything: a memory that flashes by, a morning ritual, a piece of clothing, a television show. Potential scenarios are limitless—or it might even be nothing in particular. Beginning in the pit of the stomach and instantly manifesting as a lump in the throat, the grief overwhelms one’s being. Just like a labor pain in childbirth, there is only one way to get to the other side—ride it out, go through it.

Grief can be debilitating. Unlike a bout with the flu or a bad cold, people can’t “just get over it.” For many, life grinds to a halt as repeating the routines of daily life becomes impossible with its presence. When one is overcome with its existence, “Grief” may become a comfortable, albeit distorted, companion with the potential of wiping out the lives of those left behind. At the very least, the quality of life with hope and joy may be greatly diminished.

Grief has no time frame. It does not appear with an expiration date. Unlike a calendar year that covers twelve months and 365 days—or an athletic event that has four quarters with fifteen minutes each—grief is open-ended.

Grief has a purpose. My personal experience has been that grief has deepened me, making me a more compassionate and empathetic person. Prior to this experience of grief, any words of condolence to one who experienced loss were surface, shallow at best. I will never approach someone in the midst of loss in the same way again. I know grief. I now share a previously unknown common experience with others.

Grief is healing, a true paradox. My own experience, however, is the gut-wrenching, emotional release of tears has served as a poultice for the pain and hurt that pours out from deep within.

Grief is. Giving every indication of having a life and force of its own, it enters our beings uninvited, takes up residence, and dwells within when we, as humans, experience loss. It has been said there are five (or seven) stages of grief. Regardless of what stage one is in, grief is painful, difficult, heart-rending, complicated, and personal.

I am a person of faith. For me, having One I can reach out to Who has carried me along these uncharted, turbulent waters in my little dinghy of a boat has been lifesaving. I highly recommend Him.

Whether now or in the future, as you traverse the journey and process of grief, may you find strength, peace, and comfort in God as well.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

Your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Psalm 23:4 _NKJV