During the past couple of weeks,  we have attended the funerals of two dear friends.  Knowing them changed us and losing them is hard.  I have reflected on some of the things that were said and that we observed during this time, what I learned when we lost our sweet Logan three years ago, and on some things I've heard people say recently.  These are my observations only.

As members, we often do a pretty poor job of grieving.  Our natural tendency is to want others to feel better.  We think we have the belief system to do that.  So, many times, we say, do or demand of others and ourselves, things that are very superficial and not thoughtful or helpful to the grieving process.  We came to this world to learn and grow and if we don't take the steps necessary to learn from death, nothing has been gained.  Instead, we tend to have the big funeral, a big meal afterwards, and then let out a breath and say, "well, that's over".   And we move on to the next thing without growing emotionally and spiritually.

Some of us seem to feel that because of our beliefs, we shouldn't cry or that we should be cheerful and not sorrowful.  I find that such a denial of all we are trying to achieve in this life.  We become emotional bearing testimonies, at missionary farewells, when seeing friends and family after a separation.  Why do we need to be strong when we lose someone close to us?  It's one of life's deepest learning moments, yet we are uncomfortable with sorrow.  

Elder Nelson spoke over the summer at the funeral of a young missionary who died on his mission. (This is from the Deseret News.)

Elder Nelson then expressed the importance of the family mourning their loss.

"We cry — we weep tears of sorrow. The Lord wants us to cry; he gave it to us as a commandment," Elder Nelson said. "Our tears testify our love for this righteous, wonderful, exemplary, irreplaceable Elder. Our tears also testify of our obedience to this commandment of the Lord."

I remember talking to Preston a couple of years ago after his dad died, followed a few months later by his maternal grandpa.  I asked how his mom was doing.  He said, "well, she's lost the two most important men in the world to her.  How should she be doing?  It's hard."

Our church leaders are not immune.  All of us could plainly see that in President Hinckley when Sis. Hinckley died.  Here's another quote from the Deseret News.

"President Monson’s message was especially powerful and poignant given the sorrow he himself acknowledged feeling since the recent death of his wife, Frances. He noted their 65th wedding anniversary would have been the day after conference ended. “She was the love of my life, my trusted confidant, and my closest friend,” he said. “To say that I miss her does not begin to convey the depth of my feelings.”

Sadness and suffering, he said, “are universal.” They come even to the Lord’s prophet, and they come for a reason.

“Our Heavenly Father, who gives us so much to delight in, also knows that we learn and grow and become stronger as we face and survive the trials through which we must pass. We know that there are times when we will experience heartbreaking sorrow, when we will grieve, and when we may be tested to our limits. However, such difficulties allow us to change for the better, to rebuild our lives in the way our Heavenly Father teaches us, and to become something different from what we were—
better than what we were, more understanding than what we were, more empathetic than what we were, with stronger testimonies than what we had before.”

While I don't always agree with CS Lewis, I very much like this quote.

“Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has ‘got over it.’ But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

At Christmas time, I find great solace in the story of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A more cheerful post next time, with cute Christmas-y pictures and everything, I promise.

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