Grieving Differently

When my husband and I stood outside the hospital and were told Jacob did not survive the car accident, I could not process what I was hearing. On the flight to Athens, I could sense God speaking to my heart saying, "Jacob's O.K. I'm taking care of him. He is going to be all right. Don't you remember how you prayed over and over for Me to place angels of protection around him whenever he got into a car? The angels were there." The inner peace I had during that flight did not match the reality of later being told Jacob was dead. In fact, he died on the way to the hospital.

My internal response was to scream and pound my fists on the chest of the officer who delivered that horrible news. He had to be wrong! Why would he say such an awful lie? Why would he tell me my son was dead when I was going to go into that hospital and tell Jacob everything was OK because Mom and Dad were finally there? I had brought my Bible and planned to read psalms of comfort to him as he slept.

My external response was a barely audible, "What?" For a moment I was suspended in nothingness. Time seemed to stop. Then, I heard my husband cry out, "No! Not Jacob! Not Jacob!" We both dropped to the ground crying "No, please no! Not our Jacob!" At that moment I knew our lives would be different forever. I grabbed my husband's arms and looked him in the eye and said, "We can't let this tear us apart!" I had heard so many horror stories of marriages being destroyed after the sudden death or tragedy involving a child. Our family had just been assaulted and we were going to have to fight to keep us strong and together.

The differences in the grieving that my husband and I experienced began immediately. He continued to cry out while I went completely silent and numb. I lay with arms outstretched on my back on the ground with no will to live. My precious son was no longer alive on this earth, so I no longer wanted to be either. My face was going numb. With arms out to my sides, I thought of Jesus hanging on the cross and felt as though I were being crucified at that moment. My desire was to surrender everything, including my life. Nothng mattered anymore. Everything seemed meaningless in light of my son's death.

When asked if we wanted to see Jacob, my first response was, "No!" I did not want to see my son dead. I wanted my last image of him to be when he was alive, driving away with the wind in his hair and his sunglasses on. How could I possibly want to see him without life? My husband knew immediately he wanted to see him. He needed to say goodbye, and he encouraged me to do the same. I reluctantly agreed. Our hearts broke to see our child, our firstborn, lying on a table with a white sheet over his body. Nothing in the world could ever prepare a parent for a moment like that. All of the love, joy, peace, and exictement that filled my heart that afternoon came pouring out, but there was no life there to receive it. I looked into his sweet face, just crying out to see life, but there was none. I had to turn away. The pain was more than I could bear. I think Michael was able to look longer and he bent down to kiss Jacob's cheek before we left. He uttered words that I will never forget, "Sandy, he's cold." I love my son with all my heart, but I couldn't bring myself to touch his body. I had hugged his warm, tan, beautiful body that afternoon. That's the last touch I wanted until I grab hold of him in Heaven.

When we left the room where Jacob's body was, someone began asking questions regarding whether Jacob was an organ donor. My first thought was, "Don't you dare cut into my son. He's been through enough already. Don't cut him up!" So I said out loud, "No, no, please don't do that!" I knew Jacob had agreed to be an organ donor, and it was clearly stated on his driver's license. Michael lovingly looked at me and said, "But Sandy, this is one last thing Jacob can do to help someone. You know he'd want to do that." I knew he was right, but the thought was hard to accept. That's when the nurse said such painful words to hear, "I'm sorry, he's been gone too long. We couldn't use them anyway." Relief but regret all at once.

When we arrived back at the hotel, we had to tell our daughter that Jacob had not survived, and we knew it would absolutely devastate her. We agreed to tell her Jacob was in Heaven. Michael had the strength and clarity of mind to tell her while I just sat next to her. From the moment we found out about Jacob not surviving the crash, Michael was convinced we needed to get to Raleigh and tell her ASAP, even if that meant driving all the way back to St. Simons. By God's grace and the goodness of other wonderful people, Raleigh had been flown up to Athens shortly after our plane left, so she was already waiting for us at the hotel in Athens.

The following morning was sunny and beautiful. Michael and I decided to go outside for a walk to get some fresh air. I wanted to get out on the campus and walk where Jacob had walked only days earlier. I wanted to be where he had lived and loved life for the past five weeks. For Michael, seeing students and the campus was far too painful. He needed to walk away from campus to get fresh air.

The following days back at our home, many young people were coming by the house. I was grateful for their presence but felt very uncomfortable with them going into Jacob's room. I didn't want anything to be moved or broken. Kids began asking to take mementos from Jacob's room. I didn't want anything to be removed. I wanted everything to stay here. Michael and Raleigh both seemed much more comfortable with having the kids in the room, selecting items to keep as a memory of Jacob. The whole thing seemed to be getting out of control, and we couldn't remember who took what. In the end, I knew it was good for Jacob's friend to have something special of his, and it didn't matter if we had an inventory of where various items went.

Michael, being the writer and speaker in the family, was able to put together something very nice to say at Jacob's memorial service. I found myself scribbling notes an hour before and getting frustrated. In the end, I forgot to bring my notes up front anyway and spoke off the top of my head, making little or no sense at all I'm sure. More than anything, my desire was for people to know how much Jacob loved them, loved life and loved God. My heart said to tell them all how much God loved them too, and that Jacob knew that more than ever now.

In those first days after the memorial service was held, Michael wanted to go to the cemetery where Jacob's ashes were kept. On the third visit to the cemetery, I got up and ran away. I couldn't stand to be in a place that represented his death. I wanted to be out at the beach where Jacob spent most of his summer days. The thought running through my mind each time we walked into the cemetery was, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" The cemetery only made me think of Jacob's death. I needed to be in places that reminded me of his life. Michael continued to visit the cemetery every day while I chose to walk the beach. Neither of us were wrong, we just had different ways of finding comfort.

Michael had a hard time looking at pictures of Jacob. I couldn't get enough of them. The only ones I had a hard time looking at were those of him as a young child or baby. Somehow I saw such an innocence and hope for the future in the younger pictures that really hurt to look at, now that all those hopes and dreams had been shattered. But looking at pictures of Jacob taken recently was no problem at all for me. Michael was just the opposite. The only pictures he could even begin to look at were the ones of Jacob much younger. Maybe the whole thing seemed less real. Each time he looked into the face of Jacob as a young man, he was reminded of all that had been lost.

For 99 days straight, Michael wrote beautiful letters to Jacob. They were great therapy and helped him get through some very tough moments. My writing was very limited and it was usually only to other people, telling them about what had happened to Jacob. I could write ABOUT Jacob but not TO Jacob because it hurt too much. Michael was the opposite.

After a few weeks, I was finally able to go into Jacob's room and begin looking through his things. During that time, I came across several little treasures, like his notebook for his philosophy class that had beautiful writings of his that spoke clearly about his faith in God. He wrote about heaven and hell as well. I would lie down on Jacob's bed and begin to cry as I looked around the room and saw all the different things that triggered memories about him. I would cry out to God at those times as well. The experiences were very therapeutic. Michael, on the other hand could not bring himself to go into the room for months. He would barely even look in the direction of the room. Even now, he can't go into the room with any sense of comfort or for any length of time.

Since those early days, we have shifted a bit. I can now visit the cemetery with relative ease. Michael doesn't go nearly as much. I now write a lot about Jacob and to Jacob. Michael hasn't had the time to do it. I can look at the baby pictures now, but it took me nearly 7 months before I could do it, and Michael seems to be able to look at the older pictures of Jacob a little longer.

The differences in grieving are amazing! But the most important thing to remember is that there is NO WRONG WAY to grieve. It is extremely personal and individualized. What is good for one may cause pain for another. Just knowing that ahead of time can help you to understand the conflicting views you may have. If the differences in grief are between you and a spouse, simply do your best to respect the other person's needs and grieve in your own ways. Try not to get mad at the other because he/she can't do what you need to do for yourself. It may hurt to be headed down different paths at times, but always find your way back to one another. Find out what kind of grieving you can do together. Find out ways you can do things together other than grieve. That might help you through those extremely difficult days, weeks, months and years. If you aren't intentional about how you handle your grief you may wake up one day and find yourselves with a great divide between you that may seem too wide to get across.

Remain conncected somehow. Don't allow yourselves to become totally disconnected in the area of physical affection. You have both been through an emotional roller coaster and a beating on your psyche and physical body. Allowing your phsycial affection to die will only compound the difficulties you will have. Restore that part of your relationship as soon as you can. It is great to experience that closeness when you've had someone else you love torn apart from you. I felt guilty the first time, but after experiencing the deep connection with my husband again, I knew it was essential to our wellbeing as a couple. Don't let this part of your life die too.

By the way, I believe the angels I had prayed for were there on the night of Jacob's accident, but their job that night was very different. I believe those angels helped to escort Jacob into Heaven. The peace God put in my heart on the flight? That was real too. God was taking care of Jacob and he was going to be OK. The Bible I had intended to read Psalms from to Jacob ended up being used for reading Psalms to me. Our friend who was with us that night at the hotel, who is a fabulous pastor, read from the Psalms to help me fall asleep. Nothing else would allow my spirit to calm down and rest. I don't think the reading of the Psalms did anything to comfort Michael, however. We are all so very different.