Holding a Complex Grief
My stepfather will be buried this weekend.
I have not spoken with him for more than a decade.
In the years I knew him, his presence felt larger than life with a persona that was made up of equal parts charisma and authority. Lacking in relational intelligence or critical thinking, his power in my life was both erratic and disturbing. For many years, my body bore the painful ramifications of his theology, one that propped him up at the expense of those around him.
Unfortunately, this story is not unique. I think many of us have known the complexity of this kind of grief.
One of my favorite quotes is by Martin Prechtel who writes that “grief is praise for those we love.”[1] I believe this to be true. In so many ways, my grief has only served to expand my love for beloved family and friends whose memory is cherished. But what does it look like to grieve when the one departed did not leave behind a praiseworthy legacy?
I must begin by honoring the way my stepfather’s death shows up in my body — especially since he showed such pervasive disregard for my bones while he lived. As I write, my collar bone feels tight. My lungs reach for air. My gut reels. I want to scream.
To disregard the importance of this man’s death is to disregard a part of my own life story. So bones, I will sit with you in safety until you can tell me what you need.
Peter Block and John McKnight write, “Forgiveness is the willingness to come to terms with having been wounded… We find a way to accept the dark side of our own past and somehow complete it.”[2]
I feel an invitation for the grief I feel in my bones to lead me to truth and restore the agency that once was lost. To let the lies die with him. The words he once spoke over me do not and cannot have power anymore. This time, this grief feels like praise for what has been reclaimed and renewed in my soul.
May abundance continue to dismantle the lies so that my sacred truth and agency that was once forced to hide may freely live.
[1] Martin Prechtel. The Smell of Rain on Dust: Grief and Praise. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books, 2015.
[2] Peter Block and John McKnight. The Abundant Community: Awakening the Power of Families and Neighborhoods. Oakland, CA: Barrett-Koehler Publishers, Inc, 2010.