Notes On Grief From A Grieving Father

It is precisely one week since we lost our daughter, Nahla. It was painful, and it still is.

I wish that the experience of losing a loved one could prepare you for the next one. Sadly, life never works that way.

Each death is unique, for each person we lose is unique. No two people are ever alike.

The way I think about it, the crucial things that make us weep at the death of a person are the very things that make us enjoy that person. Here's what I mean: if you have genuinely enjoyed a person's life, you will miss them deeply when they are no more. That is a painful lot that we have to deal with.

It is precisely one week since we lost our daughter, Nahla. It was painful, and it still is.

When I was 13, I lost my mother. She had gone to give birth. Both she and the Baby did not survive. It was painful, and it still is.

As my wife's Expected Delivery Date approached, it was a constant harrowing reminder- there is always a possibility that she would not come out alive. I guess experience had done its work.

Grief is the proper reaction to pain. Grief is the correct reaction to what we do not expect. I am writing this against the backdrop of our culture, which shies away from displaying any sign of pain or weakness. Grief is as important as happiness. Sometimes, it is the only way to say, "I do not like this." CS Lewis wrote that "We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination."

Indeed, it is entirely different when you are the one experiencing the pain. Is there any theology, philosophy, or psychological treatment that can serve a grieving heart? Nah. None.

The following words I write are not words that seek to provide answers. Run away from anyone who promises you the complete solution to the question of death. These are my thoughts as I navigated this period. I will be borrowing words from my favorite author, CS Lewis. I owe so much to Lewis, and I hope to see him someday in heaven and show my gratitude.

"The death of a beloved is an amputation."

Don't we all know this feeling? The death of a loved one feels like a part of us has been cut off. It is like our soul has been sawn in two.

This amputation is so much about the future. We have been cut off from a future that could be. The dreams we once had for each other will never be. Whenever you experience the death of a loved one, one line of thought that could keep reoccurring is the things you could do together, the things you promised each other.

An amputation is particularly painful because it is not the desired thing. It is not anything we want. No one goes to the doctor and says, "Doc, I want you to remove my hand."

"Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”

Oh, this is a terrible thing. Her death hangs in every direction. She in the face of every child I met. She is in the face of her sister. She is in the face of her mother, her grandmother, and everywhere. Everything reminded me of her. I knew her, but I didn't know her simultaneously. She was always hanging somewhere there. I dreamt of her the other day, held the two of them, and then I got up; she wasn't there anymore, will never be there.

"What we work out in our journals we don't take out on family and friends."

We all have different ways of grieving. Each person is unique. Our culture is communal, so when we experience grief, our sense of community is fully displayed (I love it). But some like me will grieve and recover best, not in those groups, but with a pen in hand and a book. During the CS, I had a book in my hand, and my journal app was active; as the news was trickling in, I was actively writing in the journal- it was the only way I could understand the world. The words I wrote at the arrival of the first little one and my wife behind the book "Prophet of Freedom" and my chats with pops and mum were the sharpeners I needed to think clearly. I know people whose only way they grieve is by clinging to another person or traveling. We should be sensitive and respect how others mourn. Of course, we should not allow people to do things that are destructive to themselves.

"You can't see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears."

It may take a while for people to gain perspective on things. It may take a bit to accept tragedy and move on entirely. Please don't force it. Don't try to jump the process in your mourning. Take time to cry. Take time to mourn. Feel the pain, the anger, and everything. Death is painful; there is no way to minimize it. You can block the feeling, but it will come back again and maybe more tragic.

"Not that I am (I think) in much danger of ceasing to believe in God. The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him. The conclusion I dread is not 'So there's no God after all,' but 'So this is what God's really like. Deceive yourself no longer."

When we experience a tragedy, it is not that we are in danger of losing faith in God. No, we are at risk of corrupting our image of God. I haven't experienced this particular thinking problem; my assumption is always that I was taking my case to God, whatever the situation. If not to God, to whom am I ranting? I've heard of people who lost their faith because "If God existed, He wouldn't have let my loved die," but if God does not exist, who are you complaining to in the first place? We can't eat our cake and have it. It is either God exists and deserves to explain or God does not exist and does not have to explain, and therefore we don't even deserve to say, "If God exists..."

God is always there, grieving with us and waiting for our questions.

In my case, tragedy has often pushed me to believe further in God- someone has to have an explanation for everything that happens around here. Someone has to. Everything is meaningless if no one does, even my pain, my life, and the person I mourn.

"Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape."

I know this feeling of being in a valley. It is like you are throwing in a pit. You want to shout your thoughts, scream at God and damn Him. These thoughts lead to long thinking and long imaginations; they could lead to depression. This is the stage that one must avoid by all means. I find I escape from these long valleys by slipping into a book.

"God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down."

I can't help but think about this; death is the most humbling thing. It demystifies us. It humbles us. It reminds us that we are mortals with a limited time on earth. It reminds us that someday it will be our turn too.

Any Light?

I imagined being thrown in the middle of an ocean with nothing but a small boat. At first, it was nagging. How could this happen? How could I be stranded in such a manner? What sort of wickedness is this?

Then I got tired, and I began to think. I am in a boat. I could remain despondent and give up or be grateful that I was in a boat. That was the glimpse of the miracle.

I could look around and be sad that my Baby is gone, or I could look around and see that I had another lovely Baby with me. It is not either-or. I have concluded that whatever happens to us, no matter the pain level, God does not intend to destroy us - He always has a boat around. We have to look around long enough to see it.

I am saying this as a person who has experienced the death of two very important people in my life- my mother and my daughter. It was a long process before I realized this truth as regards my mother. But I did arrive there.

"My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself."

I want to end this note by saying something. It is all right to go to God with our rants. It is all right to go to God with our questions. This theology of "We can't question God" is not Biblical. If there is anything we learn from the story of Job, God prefers the questionnaires to those who assume. I don't think God is pleased when we grieve and cannot express it. He was grieved so many times, and He expressed it.

I look back at it all, and I can see the miracle. It could have been worse. I could have lost my wife and two children... but I am in a boat with my wife and a lovely daughter. We will sail to the land again and create beautiful memories worthy of eternity.

My wife's EDD was in August, but she persisted, and I agreed (against our closest family counsel) that we should have a CS at 37 weeks. During the CS, we found out the Baby had died within 48 hours; if we had delayed further, things could have deteriorated further, killing the other Baby and the mother. It is a miracle that things didn’t get any worse.

At one point we will all have to come face to face with the death of a loved one, I pray that you have the courage to move on afterward.

Your Friend, Lengdung.