I've joined the rest of America and fallen in love with Downton Abbey. I watched the first two seasons in less than a week, and would be lying if I told you I didn't eagerly anticipate Sunday evenings for each new episode from seaon 3.
**** Spolier ALERT**** If you aren't caught up on Season 3 yet (with where it is in American TV schedules), don't read any further. I am going to talk about a major spoiler.
Ok?
I'll give you a chance to click off the screen....
Really, I mean it....
I hate spoilers. So just wanted to give you fair warning.
Oh, and if you've already watched all of Season 3, no spoilers in the comments either please!
Mmkay.....
******
Ok, here goes. Stop reading if you're not in season 3 yet, silly!
Here's a cute pic of Gia in case you are still reading... last chance. Spoiler ahead.
A couple of weeks ago, in perhaps the greatest shock of the series so far, Lady Sybil dies in childbirth. Last week's episode opened with a scene where the entire family was together (sans Sybil now, of course) in the drawing room (whatever that is). The funeral was now over, all other guests paying their respect of mourning had left. Violet Crawley, the Dowager Countess was preparing to go home when she leaned down, kissed Lady Grantham (Sybil's mother) on the cheek and said, "Now that its over, try and get some rest." After Violet had left, Cora looks at her husband and rhetorically questioned, "Is it over? When a woman loses her child, is it ever really over?"
Her words stung my heart with truth. Whitney's birthday is Monday. It has completely snuck up on me this year. I guess that's what happens when life continues to move forward, with or without all the people you love. Cora's grief-filled words have been ringing in my head ever since that episode aired a few weeks ago. Is it ever really over?
Well, what is "it" exactly? The grief? Three years out now, I do have to say that the grief does get better. Better is perhaps the wrong word for it... easier certainly isn't the correct term either. It will never be easy, so how can it be easier? I suppose it is accurate to say that the stifling grip of grief does loosen a bit as the years go on. That feeling of gasping for air under the tremendous weight of loss gradually lifts to the point where I can breathe somewhat normally again. Every now and then, even a deep breath is possible. But the grief never goes away completely.
What about the pain? The physical ache that is impossible to alleviate because the cure for this ailment now resides in another world altogether. Much like learning to live with a chronic condition, that pain never goes away. Temporary elixirs- other children, a new hobby or job, a change of scenery- may, again, lessen the pain. But the condition itself remains because like I just said, losing a child crosses the boundaries of this world and throws you into the next.
The emptiness? Much like grief, the extremity of the emptiness lessens with time, but its always still there. One less child at Christmas, one less birthday on the calendar, one less outfit for the start of school. One extra seat at the table, one ghostly, extra space for another car seat in the back. As the years go on, the emptiness resides as other bits of life begin to fill it up unintentionally, but its never really gone.
And finally, the "it" of taboo. This is perhaps the one I am most eager to be rid of. That feeling of not wanting to alienate others, so when asked about children in casual conversation, I pretend that Whitney was never here. Afterall, what is more taboo than talking about your dead child with a complete stranger? The part that hurts the worst, though, is that I don't just do this with strangers. Its with people I know, people who love us. But I sometime still gloss over the loss. In November, the International Conference on Missions was in Indy. We had a great time attending the conference and got to see a lot of our friends from college. We saw one of our professors, who was also the man that performed our wedding ceremony. I don't think we'd seen him in the almost 9 years that we'd been married, so we spent some time catching up. We had Gianna with us, and he asked if she was our first. With a plastered Stepford-like smile, I quickly replied, "Yup. Yes. She's our first & only." Then we rambled on about the blessing of children, etc. etc. This is a man who loves both me & Sean... who performed our wedding, for crying out loud! And I couldn't muster the courage to tell him about the singlemost defining moment of our marriage? What was wrong with me? It all goes back to the taboo... losing a child isn't normal. We don't know how to respond. And I didn't want to bring in the awkwardness that was sure to come. Although in hindsight, I know he would have just looked at us with his caring eyes, perhaps even with tears in them, and wanted to know more about Whitney. Which I would have loved to tell him. I'm still navigating this part of Loss. Its sticky and tricky and weird. I'm ready for the taboo of loss to be over.
So, dear Cora (whose name I adore, by the way), no. It is never really over. Not in this life at least. Grief continues, but so does life. The stifling grip of grief grows weaker, more tired over time. In fact, I've learned that the more intent on living I become, the weaker the grip of grief is. Thats not to say there won't be moments of overwhelmind sadness or pain. But I've learned to temper them with the truth that in the next life- the eternal life of knowing God and experiencing nearness with Him, it will be over.
I am going through a study on Prayers of the Bible by Susan Hunt. The one I just read this afternoon was about Glory. It talked about how in heaven, we will be with God, have nearness with him. Christ knows us and we know him beacuse we have belonged to Him since eternity past. Christ came to live in nearness to us so that he could fulfill the saving act of redemption, by dying for my sins on the cross. Understanding that gives hope that though pain is part of life right now, there is a day coming when it really will be over.
"They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." Revelation 21:3b-4
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