Good Grief

I used to think of Charlie Brown when I heard "good grief!"  But did you know there are actually several books by this title?  (And to be honest, I haven't read any of them.)  But I've always found the title interesting...

It always makes me wonder how grief can be good.  

I guess feeling the grief, even though it hurts, can be good (as opposed to not feeling).  Some might disagree, but I've seen too many people in counseling with a lifetime of hurt stuffed inside to think differently.

I like this verse:

"Let everything happen to you

Beauty and terror

Just keep going.

No feeling is final." (Rainer Maria Rilke)

I guess in that way grief can also be good.  It's not final.  It's only this chapter.  Now.  While you're hurting.  Then you turn the page and something funny or amusing happens and the feeling is different.

Which brings us to this girl...

...who is feeling some grief as her adoption approaches.  When she first moved here she said she felt sad about leaving people behind, but happy to be in a family.  She still says the same thing, but a deeper, wiser part of her asks increasingly difficult questions, ones that make me dig deep inside me for the answers.

And this week when her sisters left for camp, her world fell apart, at least for a day.  Tears.  Sadness.  Reminders of another sister she lost.  "Why didn't anyone ask me what I wanted?" she asked.

And afraid of the answer, but needing to know, I asked, "If you could go back, would you?"  

(Long pause...)

Then, "No.  But I miss people, and people miss me."  

And even though we kept talking about missing people, and even though I told her we'd always make sure she'd be able to stay in touch we people from her past, we both knew it wasn't the same.

Then tonight (while I was brushing a knot out of her hair) we were talking.  She wanted to know why we were adopting her, and if we would adopt more children.  "Why not all the children in the orphanages?" she asked.

"I wish I could."  I told her.

Then as the conversation progressed, we were talking more about loss, and wanting to go back...and what we'd do if we could go back...then deciding maybe we wouldn't want to go back.

The boys were wandering in and out of the room while we were talking.  Nate jumped into the conversation with the idea that if we could go back, our family would just be five...  Thinking he was being a rude older brother who was dissing his two younger sisters, I geared up for the defensive reaction of all defensive reactions...

Only to have him say, "Well, if you could bring your sister back, you would.  Then we wouldn't have Joie."

Silence.

He was right.

Tonight at bedtime Gabby brought it up again.  This time I told her if I had any wish it would be to take away all the hurt in my kids' lives.  I asked her if she remembered talking about feeling two things at once...happy to have a family, and sad to say good-bye to people she loved.  She remembered.  I told her I felt the same way.  I told her I'm sad about the road that brought our adopted children to our family, but so, so, happy that they're here, and happy to be a family.  I told her I couldn't change the loss, but I could be happy we're all together.

She said, "Uh, Mom...  Why are you squeezing my hand so tight?"

(Oops.)  "Because I love you so much," I told her.

It all leaves me wondering and thinking about the possibility of good grief, especially if no feeling is final.

...Which is always possible if we can turn the page and live the next chapter, and the next, and the next...and sometimes look back over what we've already lived, and pause to realize the loss and feel the pain.  As long as we don't stay there.