Saturday, November 5, 2011

Telling a thousand stories

“Grief ends when a thousand stories are told.”
-Native American saying

Jenni and I arrived in the small town of Bayeux on a late afternoon in June. And because we were still a couple of hours away from dinner time, we decided to dump the suitcases in our room and set out on a walk. Almost immediately, we came upon a sign pointing toward the British war cemetary on the outskirts of town, and we decided to pay our respects. There, just under 4,000 British soldiers are buried, having paid the ultimate price for freedom in the historic invasion of Normandy.

Making our way slowly and reverentially through the rows of tombstones we noticed a still-fresh bouquet of flowers lying on the grave of a twenty year old British soldier who had died the day of the invasion, June 6, 1944. And as we drew closer, I saw a notecard peeking out from beneath the flowers, with the slightly smudged “17 June” visible. The visitor had been there just a day before we arrived. Who would be leaving a handwritten message on a marker that was 64 years-old? My curiosity got the best of me and I gently lifted the bouquet to read the rest of the message.

“Sweetheart, I love you and always will.”

Even now as I type these words I catch my breath; the message was so simple, and so profound. Of course there is much we don’t know about this love. But we do know what matters most…that it endured. Across the years and tears, the love endured. But how?

How much time could these sweethearts have even had together? He was dead, tragically taken, before his twenty-first birthday. Yet, sixty-four years later she returned; still feeling, remembering, and sharing what they had.

Reality is so much more powerful than anything Hollywood could dream up.

Here was a remarkable witness to love…and the roll of grief well done. Love and loss are intimately connected because we live in a world that has endings unavoidably built in. But the virtue that can develop in and through the heartache allows one to experience both, and live on with grace. That’s how she could return.

Grieving is about facing the loss of someone or something precious, and growing through it by finding the love that remains, purified. We can rise above the grip of death when we rest in that which does not die.

Fine philosophy, good theology, but how does one actually, practically grieve? How does one move through sadness, and depression, and the temptation to despair…and find life in what remains?

“Grieving ends when a thousand stories are told.”

I believe grief is done best through story telling. Stop and think of all the wakes, memorial services, and funerals you’ve gone to. What, in the end, is the point? To honor the dead? Sure. But funerals, like cemetaries, are for the living much more than the dead. There, people are actually encouraged to tell stories about the one who has died; funny stories, poignant stories, stories that affirm that this person mattered, and that life matters, and that love doesn’t die. Stories communicate what is most true in ways that are most embraceable.

And they remind the living that the story goes on…as does love.

Question for reflection: Do you tell stories that affirm the lives of those you have loved and lost?