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GRIEF “The Path to Finding Wholeness After Experiencing Loss”

A dear friend Jane Chrzanowski wrote the following reflections during her journey of grief after losing her husband to cancer. May they encourage and comfort you in your loss also.

Jane has also compiled them in a book called Widow’s Walk. A free copy of this book is available by emailing Jane. She also makes herself available for support and encouragement via e-mail at nonnie_woman@hotmail.com

INTRODUCTION Why "Widow's Walk"? When I was a child, vacationing with my family on the Massachusetts coast, I wondered why some of the larger houses near the shore had porches on the roofs. They were, I was told, not porches. They were called Widow's Walks. From that higher place the wife of a seafarer could watch for the return of her man from the far places of the world.
Often the ships--and the men--did not return, but when they did the women who loved them and waited for them wanted to know as soon as possible that this most precious cargo of all had arrived in the harbor. So each day they climbed to the tops of their houses, to the widow's walks, to watch. And wait. And hope. When my husband was called home to the Lord, I knew that I would have a journey of my own to travel. As a part of that journey, He has invited me to stand on the rooftop with Him. He has shown me that I can see for a greater distance from there. He has shown me how to watch for the signs that He is healing me, and to wait for his voice and his direction. Most especially, He has shown me hope. Hope for now and hope for eternity. Jane Chrzanowski
GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22,23 Outside the hospital window the sun was rising. I had seen the same sun rising through the same window for several mornings. No matter what the day was to bring, the morning sun peeked tentatively over the rock formations by the highway, then through the stub bare trees that clung there. From there it flooded the roofs of the shopping mall on the other side of the highway, and finally into the hospital room. There it crept across the bed, carefully avoiding the sleeping patient but shining directly into my eyes as I sat in the chair. No matter what bad news there was, and there wasn’t much good news in those last days, the sun kept rising and following the same path. And I would know, even when it was not easy to believe, that the God of the universe was paying attention to His creation. To the man in the bed. To his family and friends. To the doctors and nurses, to the hospital staff, and to a lot of people I was not paying attention to at all. And even to me. That first lonely summer was hot and dry with almost no relief for weeks at a time. The grass turned brown and crunched underfoot, the tomatoes were small and hard like marbles, even the hardy marigolds wilted and withered. The drought seemed a metaphor for my faded and thirsty life. Then the rain came. Almost immediately the grass began to grow green again. The tomatoes plumped and the marigolds bloomed. Again, the God of the universe was paying attention. His grace sustains me through the day and desolate times. Hope grows a little greener, peace blooms a little brighter. Joy will return in time. “Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.” Jane Chrzanowski
BEHOLD, I MAKE ALL THINGS NEW He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new." Revelation 21:4,5 In a heartbeat--his last one--I became a different person. I was no longer someone's wife; that portion of my identity was gone as surely as Ron himself was gone. I was now someone's widow, and because of that everything else has changed as well. Every experience was now a "first"--a new life for the reluctant me. That "first" morning I made a full pot of coffee and gave myself caffeine jitters trying to drink my miscalculation. I made oatmeal for two and was even a little surprised when there was only one to eat it. So many firsts. The first time I shopped for groceries and did not come home with several bottles of orange soda, I thought I had forgotten something important even though I never drink it. The first load of laundry with clothing that belonged only to me was torture. The first junk mail with his name on it. The first phone call that asked for him. The first time the grass needed mowing, the leaves needed raking, the snow needed shoveling. The first day, the first hour, the first minute. The first time I had to say aloud, "My husband has died". God has been paying me a little extra attention, and drawing me closer to Himself. He knows that even with His close companionship this is a lonely and frightening journey. As he guided my husband into his new life, so He guides me through mine. His promises are true, not just for eternity but for the here and now as well. For every day. For every first. Jane Chrzanowski