Tag: the black curtain

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The Cage

Sometimes I almost feel caged or perhaps a better word would be – captive. 

This grief walk changes all the time.  Initially it’s dark, foggy and feels so impossible.  As time progresses, it feels more like a black curtain that we walk through or carry with us.  The curtain will sometimes fold in around us for awhile and we remain there till it unfolds and lets us move on. 

But recently I’m experiencing the grief differently.  It’s as though all along I have been moving forward.  And in doing so I feel a great sense of accomplishment, even peace.  But, when I least expect it – boom !  A grief ambush !  And it feels like a cage has been dropped around me.  I’m stuck !  There’s more to deal with. . . .more emotion, more thinking, more aching.  

Sometimes the cage can even feel a bit like a cocoon.  It’s not comforting, mind you, but it’s familiar.  And let’s face it.  Sometimes the grief is deep and awful.  Sometimes it tugs quite hard on the heart but we don’t crash.  There are so many facets of grief.  I laugh when I read books on grief that explain everything so definitively.  Seriously – no.  It’s not like that at all. 

It feels like a cage now to me.  I really do struggle with the captivity and feeling stuck.  I’m betting some of you who read this feel that way too. 

Oh how I wish I had a helpful solution to offer or even something I have found that helps.   But the truth seems to be that we simply wait it out.  Though we physically walk around, keep appointments and carry on normal conversation, we remain in the cage.  Perhaps we have mastered the normalcy of life while sitting in the cage. 

At this writing, I am 4 years and almost 5 months into my grief journey.  And what I can say at this point is this.  Though the sharp ambushes occur less, they are still profound.  And after talking/texting/messaging with others further down this path, I can predict that we will always deal with grief to some degree.  The black curtain is always there lurking somewhere, though less visible.  And the ambush is sure to happen. . . . . . . sometime.  When it does, the cage appears.

But I believe we get better and better – stronger and stronger.  We learn to deal with the grief, yes; but I believe God’s grace holds our hearts together and gently pushes us forward to embrace the life ahead.  

Oh how I want to have a good future !  I know you do too. 

Let’s make a vow to be brave together.  Let’s not rush through this.  Let’s vow to be stronger as well as better.  Darn it !  Grief won’t win.  We may have to allow it from time to time, but it won’t win.  Let’s not hide our scars.  They don’t define us.  They are badges of honor.  We will survive. 

                                Bravo & Cheers to each one of us……………………..

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The Black Curtain

When someone loses a spouse, there’s a black curtain of sorts that we walk into.  We aren’t walking through it as many outsiders imagine.  No – rather, we walk into it and are enveloped in darkness/emptiness.   I don’t have adequate words to explain it, but it truly does exist.

Even while surrounded by the black curtain, we function.  We greet people at the visitation/wake and funeral/memorial.  Actually, we often end up comforting those who are there for us.  That’s OK.  It gives us something to do and we are enormously touched by the influence of our loved one’s life on so many.  But the fact still remains that we are in the black curtain.

It’s not necessarily depression.  It is completely possible to be immersed in the black curtain and not be depressed.  That was my experience.  But others experience depression or the beginning of depression.  It is NEVER wrong to seek help and medication to cope through it all.  What person, when struggling in the water, would refuse a life preserver?  So some will need this.  It’s not a sign of weakness.  It’s a sign of strength to recognize the need and get help.  Smart – very smart.

How long are we in the black curtain?  It’s different for each person.  An important truth that others need to understand is that there’s no timeline on grief.  It lasts as long as it lasts.

As we move forward and the days become months, and then years, the black curtain turns us loose.  It unfolds section by section.  There’s no magic event that removes it.  We walk around in our everyday, ordinary, back to some sort of normal lives and bring the black curtain with us.  The unfolding comes as bits of light pierce through.  Sometimes we take a step, make a new choice, decide to do something different or embrace enlightenment through a writing or a person.  The black curtain peels back.  We can breathe a little easier and our heart doesn’t feel so heavy.

I’m only 3+ years into this grief journey.  My black curtain is still with me partially. Much of it has unfolded and fallen away.  I have talked with many widows and widowers who lost their spouses many years ago.  Most of their black curtain is gone, but a small piece remains.

I believe that the small piece of the black curtain may stay with each of us.  It doesn’t define us, but it is part of who we are.

I’m no expert, but I think that having that small piece of the black curtain helps us relate to, be empathetic with, and be tenderhearted toward, those who have experienced loss.  Our hearts bleed with their crushed heart.  We connect because we recognize the black curtain in each of us.  I believe God intentionally arranged for this to happen.  In God’s Word to us, the Bible, it says in 2 Corinthians 1:4 – “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.  When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”

On my grief journey, I’ve learned that God doesn’t waste anything.  My tragedy wasn’t for nothing.  I can see other’s black curtain.  It allows me to practice the ministry of presence.  The small piece of my black curtain connects with their black curtain.  It may be at that moment that a tiny glimmer of light pierces through.  Hope – just a microscopic flicker of hope.  It’s a beginning.  The black curtain begins to unfurl and fall away.