When I wrote Pieces in Time I was faced with several questions about death, dying, loss, and grief. While these words were familiar, and their meanings almost obvious, I nevertheless found myself asking if there was more to their meanings than the way they were traditionally interpreted.
To most people death simply means the end of life. Plants die, animals die, and people die. Traditionally, when the heart stops beating, life is over. However, as I reflected on this definition I came to the understanding that many things not considered to be living also die. For example, relationships can die. A marriage that began as healthy and thriving can come to an unfortunate end. The same can be said for friendships when two people who were once close slowly drift apart until they no longer interact with one another. In this manner, death has come to the relationship.
When death comes to such things, there is almost always a sense of loss and grief by one or both parties involved. That death can hurt just as bad as the loss of someone we love whose life has come to an end. I remember when I found out that my grandmothers had Alzheimer’s and dementia. While they had not physically passed away, I quickly came to the realization that my relationship with them had begun to die. With this realization came the beginning of my grief.
I think a lot of people don’t realize just how much they hurt as a relationship passes away. Relationships die slowly, and over time our feelings of loss and grief slowly take over a portion of our lives, and take root in our hearts. In the case of people with Alzheimer’s and dementia there is the initial shock and grief that comes with knowing something terrible has begun to take over their lives. As time goes by, though, and the imminent loss draws closer, our grief increases. I think we get used to that grief as it increases. As it does, I believe it can seem to sneak up on us. The truth, however, is that grief over the loss of a loved one has been with us the entire time without being dealt with.
Rather than pushing aside our feelings and waiting for the inevitable to come, we should allow ourselves to grieve from the moment we first experience loss. Grieving takes time, and there are many stages to grief. Not everyone is going to go through those stages the same way. Grieving is necessary, and is healthy in many ways, and on many levels. It is a very natural reaction to loss, and God’s way of healing our broken hearts.
Updated: Dec 29, 2023
My maternal grandmother and I were close. When I was born she opened an in-home daycare so she could afford to stay home and care for me while my mother went back to work. One could say I was raised by my grandmother as much, if not more, than I was raised by my parents. Her home became my home, and for a season while my father was in the United States Army, it was the only home I knew.
Built around 1949, my grandmother’s house was nothing special. It had no central heat or air conditioning. The sole source of heat was provided by an in-floor furnace between the living room and the dining room. The kitchen was tiny, and had very little counter or cabinet space as most of the room was taken up by the washer, dryer, and refrigerator. And it only had two bedrooms with no master bath. The only bathroom in the house had a ceiling just over six feet high, with only enough room to step three feet from the toilet to the shower with the lavatory in between.
Despite its shortcomings, the house was home, and a place I identified with love and security. My grandmother lived there with my grandfather until he passed away in 1978. After his passing she continued to live there and was able to maintain its upkeep with the help of a neighbor. Long after I grew up and moved away I considered her home my home away from home. I loved my grandmother, and loved my childhood home.
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Then in December 2004 my grandmother passed away. Because she had Alzheimer’s disease she had been moved to a nursing home where she could be properly cared for. Her house, however, remained pretty much as it was before she moved with all the furniture and decorations left in place, as if time had suddenly been stopped. When my mother and I walked into the house for the first time since she moved out, it was like walking back in time.
After my grandmother’s funeral we left the house as we found it until the following year while all the legal matters were settled. Then in July 2005 we returned one final time to clear everything out and sell the only home I associated with my childhood. We held an estate sale and sold what we could. Everything else was given to charity. The only thing left to sell was the house itself which my mother offered at an extremely low price. The house sold the same day it was listed, leaving me with nothing but memories of the only place I ever truly called home.
My mother did not cherish the house that had been her childhood home the way I did. Her memories were different than mine, and with everything now gone she had closure. I, on the other hand, had cherished the old house and all the memories I had made there. I had lost my grandmother, and now I had lost the one place I loved the most.
With everything in the house gone, I walked back in it and took one last look around. I had never seen it empty, and felt a sudden sense of loss and grief. As I surveyed the emptiness I began to cry, and then my tears turned in heaving sobs. I felt a pain that I had never felt before, and in the moment mourned my loss with a deep ache in my heart. My grandmother was gone, the house was now gone, and I would never see my childhood home again.