Transformational Grief

Having lived at Our Lady of Peace for almost two full years now, I have had the privilege of watching sisters pass away from time to time and of attending beautiful funerals that mark their passing. In July and August eight sisters died at OLP, and suddenly everyone seemed to be mourning at once and were also caught in a heavy, collective sadness. It was almost as if we could not make room for one more loss.

It’s not as if we knew this might never happen. In my first year here, I worked with several administrators to help individual sisters compose the content for their own funeral programs; more than 60 sisters participated in finding the artwork, the music, the words and the prayers they wished to be used at the time of their own passing. Clearly so much loss in such a short time required much more energy, and the weight of multiple griefs became overwhelming.

In her book, It’s Ok That You’re Not OK, Megan Divine gives insights that suggest that up till now, grief and loss have faced a culture that does not understand them.

She perceives our models of grief as broken and believes that we need a new model that allows us a way to do something with our grief, understanding we may not have to just “suffer” as individuals. Grief, like love, is limitless, so we can learn new ways to live with it; this learning is the way we honor those we have loved. It is not easy learning and is unique to the circumstances of the loss of each loved one.

My own mother’s death followed a bumpy five-year journey with cancer. Anyone who knew my mother, knew her as a force to be reckoned with and her diagnosis of breast cancer was no different. This is a woman who, several years earlier, had sneaked out of her house after all were asleep, walked two hours to the nearest hospital and later came home with her arm in a cast and a sling. Rather than call for help, she arrived home at about 8:00 a.m. My dad had been out searching for her for about an hour. He was shocked to see the cast and just looked at her for an explanation. She admitted to an earlier fall the day before, but she didn’t want to wake anyone up, lest she disturb us.

Cancer proved different from any other illness she had ever faced, but my family also agreed that cancer had never met a force like my mom. She never complained, never refused a treatment and when treatment failed, bravely took on experimental treatments in the hope of a better outcome. It was a five-year fight. Each year she lost her hair and each year it would grow back curlier than the year before. She never stopped believing she had a chance to win. I would love to know what she had to say to Jesus when she met him face to face! Grief in the face of death is very real but there are other circumstances that allow grief to enter as well.

As for myself, I have faced my own learning curve about grief in the past two years. I came to OLP after a hip replacement for what I thought would be four weeks of healing. Each week that passed showed my heartbeat growing slower and eventually the nurses determined that it had to be addressed. I was taken to the hospital for a pacemaker implant. Within a few weeks my breathing and heartbeat improved, I had excellent PT care and thought I was improved enough to ask to live at St. Joseph’s Center Convent. The sisters welcomed me and I spent eight happy weeks traveling between OLP and going home to St. Joe’s. Then one day I got on an elevator with a nurse I had never met before and she asked me to return with her to the convent. There she said she felt something was off in my speaking and suggested we call other nurses to ask their assessment. I left St. Joe’s to return to OLP and its great care.

Several weeks later, a nurse found me flailing my arms in my bed. This time the ambulance showed up and took me to Geisinger. I awoke, to the surprise of some, three days later, in a special care unit to learn I had complete kidney failure, pneumonia, kidney stones, sepsis and other medical complications. Thus, began for me, my new journey to a grief I could never have anticipated. Back in unit 1B at OLP, I began dialysis three times a week and did so for three months. There were a number of minor surgeries during those weeks, both before and after dialysis, to remove tubes and more stones. This illness unmoored me.

Medical appointments continued at four or five a week with every kind of doctor, and now almost a full year later I have come to accept that I will not be able to live at St. Joe’s again… I will always need close medical care on a daily basis. My ministry engagements will be much fewer and much simpler. The possibility of dialysis again is very real. I have not been well enough in these two years to attempt a trip home to Long Island and am unsure if that will really change. I am trying to sit still every day and pray just to be whatever God needs me to be, and that is enough. Finally, that is enough. I am learning to sit still.

These are the losses I am grieving still, yet my gratitude for each person who helped me, encouraged me, visited me and nursed me is endless and enduring.

I lived in a community of sisters who have lives much more challenging than mine, who no longer have a voice or no great physical capacities left and yet here I found real community as we celebrated special occasions, sang our hearts out on almost a daily basis and cheered each other on. I found a staff that daily offered unconditional love—even on the most challenging days—and I will always carry them in my heart. Our unit motto was “What happens in 1B stays in 1B,” and because of what happened in 1B, I have been blessed beyond measure.

Finally, I came across a book by Marisa Renee Lee titled Grief is Love. She states that we can no longer continue to ignore grief, to relegate it to whispered conversations, to expect folks to navigate their broken heartedness on their own when the mere act of sustaining one’s own life feels impossible. Grief, like love is also limitless. In our toughest moments, let us help each other to cross the threshold from grief to love by extending grace as best we can, by sharing love for the long haul and the common bond of peace.