I was sitting in the banker’s office when I was ambushed. Not by a bank robber, but by words on her computer monitor. It was in big bold lettering at the top of the huge screen: “CHRIS HAGA, DECEASED. DATE OF DEATH 6-25-2016.”

I had not been in denial at all. I had been terminating all of Chris’ accounts for a couple of weeks and had no problem telling people that he had passed away and the date of his death. It was administrative work that I had tackled as if I were working for my bookkeeping clients. (It was during that period when I was numb and, robot-like, just did what needed to be done.) But seeing it in bold letters on a financial document glaring at me, the finality of my husband’s life hit me smack in the face. This was my husband’s death we were dealing with, not just an administrative matter. When the banker looked up, tears were streaming down my face. She understandingly handed me a tissue and waited for me to regain my composure.

This wasn’t the first ambush of grief, nor the last. It still occasionally happens (although rarely now)—and usually at an inopportune time when I am around other people. The worst for me happened at two wedding receptions—still too difficult to relive here.

Not all grief happens after someone passes. Sometimes it happens before the death occurs (anticipatory grief). I had six years to anticipate the inevitable, so yes, I had times of anticipatory grief, especially when Chris was in the “valley of the shadow of death.”

I had moments of grief due to feeling guilt. Guilt for times I felt resentful that my entire life seemed to revolve around his medical needs—when he was fighting for his life. Guilt for going with my sister-in-law to grab a hamburger at his favorite place and fibbing that we were going out for a salad while he spent time with his brother. (That was at a point where he would have loved a hamburger but couldn’t keep any food down because his body was shutting down.) Grief because I knew I would soon be a widow. And I was scared.

I remember meeting a friend for lunch shortly after Chris died. She has the same type of stage IV lung cancer that Chris had. (Yes, she’s going on 8+ years of survivorship.) Since her occupation was a nurse, she was giving me a medical perspective of some things I asked about that happened on the last couple days of his life. At one point, I started weeping. She simply reached across the table and held my hand until I worked through my emotional pain. No words were spoken. None were needed. Her touch showed she cared and provided the comfort I needed at that instant. I felt I should be strong for her since she was a cancer patient, but yet there she was, comforting me in my time of need.

Dr. Phil McGraw says, “If you realize that a day has gone by when you didn't think about your loved one (which may or may not happen in time), you may feel guilty that you're ‘forgetting’ him or her.”*

I had such a moment of guilt four and a half years after Chris died. I was in the kitchen at my son Chad’s home in November 2020. He was cooking breakfast for the family when I received a thoughtful text from a friend who had remembered it was Chris’ birthday and thought it might be a difficult day for me. I had remembered earlier in the week that Chris’ birthday was coming up, but on the actual day, I had totally forgotten. Enjoying time with family, I had lost track of what day it was. How could I forget it was Chris’ birthday? Guilt struck immediately. It wasn’t so much that I was grieving that Chris wasn’t with us, but that I had been so busy enjoying life, that I forgot my husband’s birthday. I sobbed as Chad held me in his arms and let me cry. I don’t remember if he said a word. He didn’t need to. The comforting hug was all I needed.

Another ambush happened last year while I was on a date. We were spending time reading the Bible together, and as I read out loud from my Bible’s life application notes at the bottom of the page about Christ serving the disciples, even to the point of washing their feet, my voice cracked and I couldn’t continue on—too choked up with emotion to read further. I had a sudden flashback of washing Chris’ feet because he was too weak to do so himself. “Thank you for being Jesus to me,” he said with tears in his eyes. To hear him compare me to Jesus was the sweetest thing he could have ever said to me. My date calmly waited for me to get hold of my emotions. No word was needed. Just understanding, quiet compassion. (My book His Love Carries Me mentions our feet washing love story on page 274.)

For those who recently lost a loved one, rest assured, it does get easier with time. But I’ve been told grief will never really go completely away. Surround yourself with people who will let you grieve at your own pace. Some people may think you haven’t grieved long enough before trying to move forward with life. Others will think you’re grieving too long. There is no definite period of time allowed to grieve. It’s different for each individual, because every situation is different. Dr. Phil says, “If it takes a short amount of time to recover from a loss it doesn't mean you only loved a little. The depth, breadth, and longevity of your grief are not a reflection of how much you cared about the person.”* He also gives this same counsel to those who wallow in their grief for years to the point it affects every aspect of their daily living. Give yourself permission to move forward with life. Your loved one would want that for you.

If you are with someone who is having an ambush of grief and don’t know what to do, just be there for them. They need to work through the moment themselves. No words are necessary. There are no words that you can say to comfort them in that moment. Your caring presence is enough. If you want to do something more, hand them a tissue, hold their hand, give them a hug, or let them cry on your shoulder if needed. They probably won’t remember any words you say, but they will remember how you showed you cared.

What do you do when there is no one around to hold your hand or give you a hug? Look up. God is the greatest Comforter of all. Our heavenly Father is always here for us. Find a big chair, crawl up into His lap like a little child, and pour your heart out to Him. He will listen and wrap His loving arms around you for as long as you need.

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Well, folks, this wasn’t at all the blog I had set out to write regarding administrative things to do after a spouse dies. But apparently someone needs to hear this about dealing with grief, because it just flowed from me, completely away from my original intended blog. (See my next post for my original intention.)

I pray that “Dealing with Ambushes of Grief” helps someone who needed to hear they are not alone with their feelings of grief, or how to best comfort someone who is grieving.

* https://www.drphil.com/advice/experiencing-grief-after-loss/