I felt a small drop of water spit onto my face.
It was around 2 a.m. and it was pouring rain outside.
For four years, my “brand-new” roof has shown itself to be less than perfect and leaks have sprung forth everywhere. I’m exhausted with the roofer and the fact that we paid good money for this, and now at 2 a.m. the wet drops remind me that I’m also exhausted from COVID-19.
Having moved into the guest room to sleep, I find I’m now having to deal with the pitter patter of water dripping right next to my head and popping on my eyelid.
At some point, the drops of water combined with the tears starting to roll down my face as I felt an overwhelming sense of frustration begin to flow through my body.
These were part tears of anger (After four years, can’t they get this right?!), part tears of fear (Will tonight be the night I’m horribly sick from COVID? Will I have to go to the hospital?) and part tears of sadness (so many friends are hurting).
Atypical of my usual behavior, which would be to freak out about more leaks, I placed a few towels on the bed where the water was falling, inserted ear plugs so I didn’t hear the drip, moved all the way to the right side of the bed and started quietly praying the names of everyone I could think of who was having real problems right now: cancer, COVID, not being with loved ones when they died, frontline workers I know … as you can imagine, the list was long.
When the sun came up, I felt better. Now I could do something about the leak. Make a call, put on a tarp, dry the towels. I am lucky. There are far too many people who could not do anything to make their pain, fear and worry go away this past holiday season. It was the elephant in the room and for many, it’s still standing there.
Have you or someone you know among your family or friends started the new year already disappointed and fighting feelings of grief? Have you felt the hot sting of tears? They could be telling you something.
Did you know that humans are the only mammals known to produce tears as the result of an emotional response, be it joy or grief? I think that’s so amazing. Yes, tears can lubricate your eyes and force out foreign objects, but far greater is the fact that they contain and release toxins in our body. Secreting tears actually serves a biological function by producing stress-inducing hormones! So grab that box of tissues, but don’t stop there.
Crying does a lot, but it doesn’t change everything. The change-maker is having hope and quite frankly, these days – even with a vaccine – hope can feel like it’s hiding.
A dear friend, Denise Palacios, leads grief support groups at the Children’s Bereavement Center. She tells me you can’t underestimate the role hope plays in grief.
“The need to create space in life – meaning finding the time and connecting with people who can help you find a glimmer of hope – is critical to healing,” she said, “because it’s time and distance away from that pain point that bring relief.”
And while she shares that grief about a loss really does stay with us for life, it will morph into less painful feelings as we let it take its course.
Does that give you hope? Perhaps it’s hope that’s only the size of a teeny tiny mustard seed. That’s OK! It still signals something greater is coming, like that unresolved, unwanted grief will find relief in something hoped for. You can’t buy it, sell it or trade it, but the treasure is that it triggers a deeper conversation with yourself.
So if you’ve been drowning yourself in Netflix and extra butter microwave popcorn, hit pause. Make sure you don’t waste this pandemic! What do I mean?
Don’t walk away after getting the coronavirus vaccine and say, “Phew – glad that’s over!” It may be, but another “pandemic” awaits. I’m not saying this to be a Debbie Downer, I’m saying it because it’s true. If we leave this pandemic and don’t take with us a deeper sense of what matters most to us (where our hope lies) then the vaccine only solves one of our problems.
We cannot go back and change the pain of the holidays – present, past or future. It hurt, and for many it will continue to hurt and cause deep pain, but the worst thing to do is to run from it. Grab it instead! Look at it. It won’t always feel like this. Grief changes over time. Can you rest in that? Does that help you breathe a little better?
If it’s raining inside your house as you look at 2021, then take it from my grief counseling friend: Isolation increases grief; connectedness lessens it. So I’ve compiled some resources that are easy to access in areas along the Biscayne Corridor. Some provide spiritual, counseling or therapy support, others are networking programs that can help you “get out” in nonthreatening safe ways. If you haven’t made New Year’s resolutions just yet, consider “Find my hope” your year’s journey.
• thebrookmiami.org
• childbereavement.org
(They have excellent services for adults, too!)
• venturecafemiami.org
• whatsyourgrief.com