The unity of grief

Most people have gone through tough times in their lives.  Be it deaths, broken relationships, illnesses, mistreatment, betrayal...  I feel like grief leaves wounds that never completely close.  Oh, they fade, and through the grace of God any heart can heal, but memories will always linger.

But the up side of grief, if I may speak simplistically, is that because it is so universal, it can be shared.  No two stories are ever going to be the same.  No two griefs will ever perfectly match.  But two wounded hearts can share the pain and the peace that their stories have brought.  (I remember the first time one of my friends lost a brother after I'd lost mine, thinking, "Finally, I can offer words of encouragement so they know they're not alone."  But afterwards I realized--it was just as uncomfortable and sad and distinctly Not As Comforting As I'd Wished as the other times.  Even if it feels like you have all things in common, another soul's grief can never be fully entered into.  So words of hope and encouragement are always beneficial, not just from people who know.)

Remember after 9/11?  People would gather to share their stories, their hurts, and to begin the healing by acknowledging that their pain was not theirs alone.  In its individuality, it was universal.  School shootings and natural disasters are like that too, but often when people endure sorrow on an individual scale, they don't share like they might if others were going through the same experience.  Often we keep individual griefs closed in, as if our pain might inconvenience others.

This is a stock photo because obviously I don't actually take pictures when people are grieving.

I've been thinking about that recently.  A woman I know recently had this to say about her journey through grief.  (I would never just link someone's random post, but she wrote this to be shared, and to be a thread of comfort to others.  Her journey from grief means giving up rights to her story, as it were, if it means someone could be helped by it.)  I would recommend reading it, by the way.  I'm not going to lie--I cried when I read it.  I've never lost a child, but I'm a human, so I reacted to her suffering.
And that's the way it should be.  At work, this sparked a lot of discussions.  We all shared a little about the sad times we've gone through in our lives.  I've worked there for more than a year and this was the first time I'd mentioned my brother to some of them.  Everyone had a little piece of grief to offer, and in every offering, the burden was made just a little lighter to bear.

Of course...  I really haven't gone through as many tough times as some.  All things considered, I've gotten off pretty easy on the grief scale.  But that's my point--people can share grief, even if it's not the same.  Even if I haven't suffered as much as you, it doesn't mean that we can't be a comfort to each other.  And, most particularly if we're both believers, we have so much comfort to give each other.  I remember being much impacted by a story of grief told by a man I knew, who, instead of focusing on his own grief, reminded me that none of our suffering compares to the Lord's suffering.  And it's not just that He suffered, He suffered for our sakes.  So we can stand together, and with certainty that overshadows grief, say that My Redeemer Lives.  It's not like that takes away the earthly pain we experience, but it causes our hearts to focus on the One Who can bear our pain in the toughest moments.  Because sharing pain and grief with others will never compare to the lightness that comes with sharing our burdens with the Lord.