A GRIEF OBSERVED (PART 2)

MY BODY BEGINGS TO SHAKE

I’m silent as she holds me. Then the strangest thing

begins to happen. I feel the room begin to shake. We have

never had an earthquake in this section of the country

before. Then I realize that it is not the house that is

shaking. My body is shaking and I am sobbing.

After a few minutes, I begin to regain some control. “I’m

sorry,” I say. “If I need proof of God’s love for me, I

only have to recognize that God has given me you.”

“About 85% of the time I feel the same way,” she says.

At first I feel my insecurity rise up. Then I feel my

wife’s body shake as continues to hold me but giggle as

well.

I relax as she steps back. She looks at me for a second.

Alan, I want you to sit down and cooperate with what I’m

about to do.”

“Right here in the living room,” I say with a smirk on my

face.”

“Maybe later tonight, lover boy, but right now I have

another idea.” She takes out her Smart phone and begins

looking for a number.

A PHONE CALL

“Who are you calling?” I ask. I don’t want anyone else to

know about my imbecilic behavior.

“Just sit,” she says. “I’ll get you a glass of wine but I

also want to ask Phyllis to come over.”

Phyllis is a psychologist and good friend of my wife’s.

I start to object but Ariel is already on the phone.

“Phyllis, it’s Ariel. You know what we were talking about

yesterday?” She pauses and listens. “You were right and I

need you to come over right now. Don’t bother to knock,

just come on in.”

She clicks off and heads to the kitchen to get the wine.

As Ariel returns with a glass of wine, I start to object

to what is happening. “Ariel, I know Phyllis is a very

smart woman, but I am embarrassed enough about my

behavior. I don’t want . . .”

“Hush! I’ve seen this build up in you over the last

couple of years. I’m not about to sit by and let you be

torn apart any more without fighting back.”

“I’m just tired, that’s all. I promise I’ll take some

extra time off and get some rest. What do you mean,

you’ve seen it build up—what’s built up?

“Phyllis calls it secondary grief. Just hear her out,

Alan.

Before I can respond, in walks our neighbor. Phyllis is a

large woman, just under six-foot I’d guess. She has an

ageless quality but I’d guess she is approaching 60. I’ve

never seen her when she wasn’t wearing a professional

looking business suit but tonight she is dressed in a

blue sweat suit with a maize wolverine on it.

She sees me glance at the insignia and blushes slightly.

“It’s a gift from my granddaughter. She knows it drives

her UNC grandpa crazy.”

“Good to see you in informal clothes,” I say. “I can’t

remember seeing you in anything but a business suit

before.”

“It’s an authority thing,” she says and smiles.

“Ariel says you’ve been talking about something to do

with grief,” I say.

GOOD PASTORS ALSO FEEL GRIEF

“Alan, I know that you have been a good pastor at this

congregation for several years. During that time, I

imagine, you’ve helped a number of people through periods

of grief.

“Yeah,” I say but I’m sure my face shows the hesitancy I

feel. “I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”

“Let’s not start with you. Let’s start with what you know

about grief that makes you a good pastor,” Phyllis says.

“For example, what are the normal stages of grief that

people pass through?”

“I think the classic ones are denial, anger, bargaining,

and hopefully acceptance. It’s somewhat similar to the

stages people go through when facing death.” I don’t know

where this is going, but I feel myself relaxing a little

as we start talking about an area with which I am very

familiar.

“And when a person experiences deep grief,” Phyllis

continues, what are some of the effects on that person

both physically and emotionally.

“Physically it makes the person’s body more vulnerable to

breakdown,” I said.

“And emotionally,” she pressed.

“I’m not sure what the studies show,” I say, “but from my

experience, a people becomes more isolated, selfabsorbed,

and they lose perspective as well as emotional

control.”

“I agree, Alan. I’ve watched some of my clients who try

to absorb the grief and not work through it, occasionally

act in ways that are directly contradictory to their

normal character.”

“Wait a minute,” I say, suddenly being aware of where

this conversation is going, “I am not experiencing grief.

I’ll admit that I have been working too hard, and, yes, I

did lose some emotional control this evening, but it is

nothing that a couple of good night’s sleep and maybe an

extra day of vacation won’t cure.”

Ariel comes over and sits beside me, squeezing my leg

gently. “Alan, Phyillis has been doing some research on

the secondary grief that surgeons experience in their

practice. The other day she and I were discussing some

parallels in the ministry.”

“OK, OK,” I say, holding up my hands in a sign of

surrender. “If you’ll join us in a glass of wine, I’ll

play along. Lord knows I acted like a complete idiot when

I came home tonight. Maybe exploring your theory will be

good for me.”

TO BE CONTINUED