EFFECTS OF GRIEF DENIAL
“I didn’t lose a child,” I say, feeling irritation rising
in me. “My focus was the Singer family and, secondarily,
the congregation to work through their grief. People go a
little crazy in times of grief. They all needed some
help.”
“But you were above it all, as if in a little balloon
where feelings couldn’t penetrate.” Phyllis says.
“I didn’t say that. It’s just that there wasn’t time to
pay attention to my needs. In addition to the funeral and
being present to them, I had a Sunday service coming up,
a budget meeting to prepare for, two baptisms, and a
newsletter to get out. I think I also had to speak to the
custodian about some member’s complaint about cleanup.“
SUCK IT UP
“Why didn’t you tell the Singers to just suck it up and
get on with life?” Phyllis asks.
That really irritates me
What type of psychologist is she anyway?
“Is that some type of sick joke? Next you’re going to
spout crap like ‘Time heals all wounds’ or ‘God wanted
another flower in his garden.’ That’s the type of shit
that fries my ass.”
Phyllis doesn’t seem bothered by my reaction. She waits
until I run down and then says, “But isn’t that what you
were telling yourself to do?
Marcia tells me that you were very close to the Singer
boy. Surely you felt deep pain, but no one offered you
comfort, did they? You wouldn’t even give yourself
permission to acknowledge your own pain. You just sucked
it up and kept going.” Marcia reaches over and refills
both of our glasses. “Why don’t you share that checklist
you were using with the doctors?” she says to Phyllis.
I’m still trying to decide whether I want to hit Phyllis
or stomp out of the room in a huff. She clearly doesn’t
understand the nature of ministry.
EFFECTS OF REPRESSED GRIEF
Phyllis pulls a small notebook out of her pocket. “It’s
just a partial list of some of the changes that the
support staff noticed about the doctors and nurses in the
critical care area when they lost a patient that they had
grown close to.”
Phyllis begins to read from her notes: “They seemed to
withdraw from casual conversation, as if they couldn’t be
bothered. Others would say that they appeared more
weighed down by life. They made cynical remarks about the
hospital, the medical profession, and life in general.
There was a loss of a sense of humor, and they seemed
less tolerant of even the littlest mistakes by others.”
“Does any of that sound familiar?” Marcia asks.
“Look, I appreciate your concern,” I say, “and some of
those characteristics are accurate, but they are also
true about people who are just overworked. As Sigmund
Freud said, ‘Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.’“
I pause and take a sip of wine. Actually I take a gulp of
wine.
“If it was just this one tragic accident,” Phyllis says,
“I wouldn’t press the issue. But Alan, I’ve talked enough
with Marcia to know that there are many areas of grief
that you experience in the ministry. What I want to
suggest to you is that they are cumulative.“
“I understand what you are saying, but what you don’t
understand is that’s just the way it is in the ministry,”
I say.
EFFECTS ON A GOOD PASTOR
“I don’t doubt that,” says Phyllis. “The question is how
does a good pastor handle his or her grief without
getting locked in to denial and, like many doctors,
building shields around themselves for protection.
I look at both of them. They don’t say a word. The
silence hangs there. I stand up. “Grief, huh, I think
what you are suggesting is that the better a pastor is,
the more pain they absorb.”
“That’s the way I see it,” says Phyllis.
“Helping people work through their grief is one of your
great gifts, Alan,” Marcia says. “I just want you to
apply those same gifts to yourself.”
I walk over to where my briefcase landed and straighten
up the vase that sits precariously on its stand. “For the
sake of my wife and this house, I guess I’d better try.”
I guess how I do that is another story for another time.
