Shortly after Marisa died I read and heard that though my grief was very raw then, it would somehow lessen.
I didn’t believe them then. I couldn’t then.
I have had a while to think about that notion. I still don’t believe it, or at least how it was explained to me then. I don’t believe that it lessens, I just believe that I am more experienced and know how and what to take from a pocket of grief.
Yesterday I was leading a Music Therapy session and one of the individuals in the session asked for the song “Amazing Grace”. I started playing the introduction to the song. A different individual started weeping.
I counselled her and found out that “Amazing Grace” was one of her father’s favourite songs. “And he is dead now”, she said. I grieved for her. I grieved for me. I grieved for Zion, Jacoba and Zekijah. But I didn’t weep or cry. I probably would have cried had that have happened a year ago. But that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t deeply sad because I was. I was deeply sad. Deeply, deeply sad.
We sang the song. With all our hearts. It was a perfect example of Music Therapy.
But I was still sad. It wasn’t less sad than before, just different sad. Because I have learned over the past couple years how to take what I need from that moment of grief.
I just don’t know yet what to do with it everytime.
Life 
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February 25, 2009 at 10:16 am
lore
This week weighs heavily on us, crushing from every side. A young father from our midst, his four year old, and week old baby are suddenly found without their principle character. She died en route to the trauma center.
And every day for the past three I’ve asked, When? When will this sting not feel so raw, so real, so swollen? Last night I read in Romans “I would that your sorrow would lead to repentance, not death.” And I ask, for what am I supposed for be sorry? We’re the ones mourning here and since when is mourning a sin?
But this morning I stumble on a bigger truth: repentance isn’t always groveling at the feet of our victim, it’s literally “turning around and walking the other direction.”
So in this wave of sadness, this pit of sorrow, we’re picking up and turning the other direction–we’re not looking at death in the face (though there are days when we do), we’re saying Onward and Upward, “to whom else would we go?”
February 25, 2009 at 12:05 pm
sonja
Maybe after a time we allow ourselves to put grief “away” in a part of our minds and have more control of when we allow it “out” as time passes? I don’t know…it’s hard to explain. I do know that songs are a trigger for me when I am alone, but not nearly as much as in a crowd anymore.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Mendelt.
February 25, 2009 at 11:13 pm
Linda
In my experience, the phrase “grief will lessen” is an attempt to explain that it changes. At first it may present like a dead elephant on your back, unfamiliar, heavy, piercing, awkward… But later, it’s more of a companion on the journey, familiar and close, still unwanted but something you become accustomed to being there. Sometimes sharp and difficult, sometimes softer and resigned.
Maybe it’s a little like coming out the other side of the valley of the shadow.
February 25, 2009 at 11:13 pm
Frances
“Amazing Grace” reminds me of the story of Marisa and her wayward pupil. The one who didn’t obey her much throughout the school year. The one who made teaching a challenge for her that year. The one who was probably alot like you when you were in grade 5. The one who probably was alot like my very own son. The one who came to her desk at the end of the school year, wanting and hoping to get a reward lollipop, but knowing he didn’t deserve it.
“That’s grace”, Marisa said, handing over a lollipop.
That was wisdom.
February 26, 2009 at 1:04 pm
Paulette
Yes I direct and teach childrens choir grades 1-6 and a little girl raised her hand during one of our songs last night, I said what is it? She said I need you to pray right now for my friend macy at school, her Dad and mom both died in a car wreck this past weekend and I am sad.
I am sad too and we had to stop singing for a while.
I am glad your kids still have you.
February 26, 2009 at 6:19 pm
Roads
What a wonderfully insightful post. At some levels, you can wonder if grief makes you hard, because you know you can get through moments like the one you describe.
Well, most of them.
And grief does make you hard. You develop this tough outer shell that others may not see through. But as you imply, that doesn’t mean that you’re not feeling it beneath.
You just think — here we go again. And you get on with it.
On the other hand — often you can hear Amazing Grace played on the bagpipes. And that’s enough to make anyone cry…
February 28, 2009 at 11:02 pm
Samantha Pellegrino
Grief is fickle…and only an amazing grace can tame it.
March 4, 2009 at 2:09 pm
R&G
I do not know what to say! But I really feel for you and appreciate how you share your thoughts and feelings. Keep you in our thoughts and prayers. R&G
March 6, 2009 at 10:17 am
Rana
Thanks Mendelt for your posts. It’s almost a year ago that my dad died suddenly and your blog has become like therapy to me. People kept saying to me, the first year will be so hard and I would think to myself that it would be so hard forever- not just the first year. At first I could barely go to church without crying and I definitely couldn’t sing- the words were too hard to get out. But now, I sing and sometimes I’m wondering why I’m not crying. I think Roads said it well- it’s that outer shell that has developed. Sometimes I find myself not even feeling sorry for other people because I think that their problems are so little. I think to myself- get over it- at least you have each other. I guess the hard part is that people are thinking that as time passes, you are moving on. I feel like I am moving on, but only because the time pushes us and it’s really just learning to cope with the pain. I don’t think they realize that in our quiet moments the sorrow and pain that we allow ourselves to feel is still so raw. I went to your concert in October and it was lovely. How neat that you and your family could get together and just share their feelings without explaining- especially the raw feelings. You and your kids are in my prayers.
March 12, 2009 at 10:53 am
The Pots
Sometimes I think of grief like a wound that develops a scab. (Hey, my kids are at that stage where they talk about cuts, scrapes, and scabs…) It’s always there, and from time to time, the scab is either taken off or ripped off… and then the wound bleeds again. Over time, the scab forms. And that’s where the analogy stops, because I can’t say that the wound becomes a scar that disappears. You simply learn to live with the wound.
SPot
March 19, 2009 at 12:27 pm
Julie Vos
Hi Mendelt! I wanted to write on the blog today because I have been thinking about you.
I also want to request a DVD of the concert and I hope I am not too late! I would love to buy one and share it with my husband and my children when they are older. I kept meaning to ask you, but then I would get doing something else and forget! Hopefully, there’s still room for one more request 🙂
Are your children playing soccer again this summer? Are you going to coach soccer again? I enjoyed reading your ‘soccer stories’ last summer! Our son played for the first time last year and it was quite an experience! He wants to play again and this year he hopes to score a goal 🙂
You are in my thoughts and prayers, Mendelt!
Love, Julie