Is there any good in grief?
In case you’re joining me for the first time at LeilaViss.com, I usually blog about teaching and playing the piano. I like to integrate music apps to reinforce learning, develop innovative ideas for creative teachers and adore arranging and composing.
On Thanksgiving 2019, our 25-year-old son named Carter was struck by a boat in Florida. Three of his limbs were severely injured and he lost his right arm. The shock of this trauma has jolted me into a sphere of grief. Right now, writing serves as my therapy as our family faces this brutal new reality.
[To keep up with Carter’s healing status, please follow his Caring Bridge site found here.]
So, my blogging has shifted to what I and my family from Denver, Colorado are experiencing as we grieve. I’ll unravel what this new reality looks like for me as a wife, mom of three grown sons, piano prep coordinator at the University of Denver, church organist and pianist, blogger, composer and piano teacher.
My hope is that my posts will connect with anyone who grieves.
Read my past posts about grief by clicking on the titles below.
Serendipity in the Midst of Mourning
FYI: The grief monster has held me by the neck for two months. It’s loosening its grip and this will be my last post about grief for a bit. It’s cast a shadow over my writing and it’s time to move out of the dark side and shift the focus back to all things piano. Thanks for sticking with me. Don’t hold your breath…I’m guessing the grief posts will return.
Good grief.
I’ve borrowed that phrase made famous by Charlie Brown for most of my life. Now that I’m in the thick of grief, I wondered who dreamed up this oxymoron? It’s similar to the other oxymoron we’ve been living here in Florida: pain in paradise.
Turns out that “good grief” is a euphemism for “good God.”
Most likely, I’ll continue to inadvertently say good grief but the two words have made me stop and ask: is there any good in grief?
If you would have asked me two months ago, I would have adamantly said NO! Now that our family is two months into a life-changing tragedy, I’ve got to admit—even though I’d rather not—there is some good in grief.
1
Grief clarifies your priorities.
A good friend from high school and college days shared an article that describes the process of how grief peels off every people-pleasing layer stockpiled over a lifetime.
Here are a few favorite quotes:
Suffering unmasks the illusions we create day after day…
Suffering brings us face to face with our finitude.
Suffering exposes trivialities.
During a season of suffering, we are more likely to see past the lesser stories that have demanded so much attention… - Trevin Wax
Read Treven Wax’s post titled “Whens Suffering Strikes your Story” here.
Both my husband Chuck and I have been stripped of all our assumptions of what 2020 would hold. We’ve been forced to focus on a raw reality—the health and well-being of Carter and our family.
Speaking of trivialities, Chuck rotates between three pairs of shoes here in Florida. I have a few more pairs here and am missing the others back home.
Chuck will be the first to admit and I have to agree that I’ve been attempting far too long to “do it all.” As timing would have it, this summer found me reading a book about productivity called “Free to Focus.” Since then, my goal has been to make room for margin, more white space so that my “freedom compass” begins to point north, towards my “desire zone.” Here’s my post about the freedom compass.
Because of the accident, I’ve passed along a position at DU and lost piano students. Although they sting, these losses have been replaced by gains in time and freedom. My guess is the pull of both will keep me from returning to what my life was BA—before the accident—and challenge me to “do it well” instead of trying to “do it all.”
2
Grief heightens your awareness of lyrics.
For weeks, both Chuck and I could not listen to music, especially music with lyrics. Our emotions could not withstand any more triggers. Tunes suggested by friends and colleagues didn’t relate. We choked on the words of old hymns like “Great is Thy Faithfulness” and “How Great Thou Art.” The verses fell flat and seemed trite.
As we’ve gained some emotional stability, we’ve connected with songs and lyrics that put words to what we’ve been experiencing better than we could ourselves.
One in particular that speaks volumes, “Tell Your Heart to Beat Again,” is covered by Danny Gokey.
Neither of us will listen or sing a song the same way we did BA—before the accident.
3
Grief increases your family circle.
Turns out we’ve accumulated new sisters and brothers through grief. So many of you have given support through comments at the blog or at Caring Bridge or privately through email or Facebook messenger. Some of you have shared your own experience—your battle—with grief.
As you’ve told your stories, you’ve also shared ideas on how you cope. It seems that once you’ve struggled with any kind of grief, you take turns lifting up each other. Strangely, it’s been an honor to hear your horrible stuff and find commonality with you when life is not Instagram-perfect.
One friend who has shared a lifetime of similarities with me—won’t go into the long list here—suggested a devotional offered at YouVersion. Although I’ve resisted anything scripture-based for a while, these daily passages, short reflections and music videos have offered something close to solace.
Follow this link to learn more about this devotional plan called Labyrinth.
My sister, husband and daughter with my mom and dad and Carter.
4
Grief keeps your house clean.
This seems quite petty to include at such a time but if you know me, you’ll understand why I include this on my list.
After the accident, our son Chase and his wife Brittany stayed at our house to hang with Levi, our youngest son who’s been living with us since he graduated from college. We were thankful that they hunkered down together while Chuck and I stayed with Carter. It was extremely hard on the kids to not be with us in Florida.
When I returned home to Denver after the accident to play for some December services and to get affairs in order before a return to Florida, I came back to a house that was not as clean as I had left it. The kids are good at keeping things tidy but…bedding needed to be washed, bathrooms cleaned…These normal household chores I’ve done for years seemed overwhelming. Two dear friends from church offered to do anything they could to help so I asked if they could arrange to have our house professionally cleaned.
I didn’t get to see how clean it was as I returned to Florida before it was completed—a little disappointing. But…it was a gift to know that a dear soul (she was SO sweet when we did the walk through) thoroughly cleaned our house AND cleaned the base boards—something that’s been neglected for years.
5
Grief widens your circle of friends.
Carter moved to the West Palm Beach area six years ago not knowing a soul. We discovered the night of the accident that although Carter was living alone he had found two communities, two families that enveloped him as their own. As a bass guitar player at Truth Point church, the staff and congregation and their prayers came alongside Carter and all of us and haven’t left.
The staff and volunteers at Loggerhead Marinelife Center where Carter has worked for the past two and a half years has been our home away from home. It’s our mailing address and our place to hang a couple of times a week for camaraderie and turtle therapy.
Loggerhead’s CFO, Caitlin, immediately jumped on overseeing Carter’s finances after the accident so that his bills would continued to get paid to ward off creditors and predators.
We’ve relied heavily on the friendship of Ed, a Loggerhead board member, for advice on lawyers, bankers, car mechanics and recommendations where to eat, boat rides and a logical sounding board.
Andy, who works with Carter in mechanical operations at Loggerhead and saved Carter’s life, has become our fourth son. Credit for both rainbow pics go to him.
Countless volunteers have offered their help with rides, groceries, meals, dinner gift cards—anything—as they all want Carter to return to work ASAP.
So many of the the staff at Loggerhead donated their paid time off that Carter accumulated close to five months of paid time off.
We treasure our friends in Colorado, our dear family spread across the country and now Carter’s Floridian communities. They have become ours, too.
And, it would be a shame not to mention the virtual family we’ve gained by your support here at the blog and via social media.
Photo courtesy of Andy Earl
6
Grief dissolves your self-reliance.
Our family is wired to do it ourselves. Since the accident, we’ve come to rely on the help, support and prayers of others to get us through.
Dear friends of Carter’s stayed the first night at the hospital while we were flying out to Florida.
We made a big ask around the holidays. We wanted somewhere for our entire family to stay together. We landed at a beautiful 3-bedroom condo thanks to a generous friend of a Loggerhead volunteer. Although we had not met before, she graciously opened her doors to us.
Numerous friends have offered miles for flights.
Our kids envisioned the financial impact the accident would have on our family and so they set up a GoFundMe account. It exploded.
Carter must ask for help to move out of bed, dress, go to the bathroom, handle meds, eat, etc. He is gradually gaining his independence but it will be a while until he is completely self-sufficient.
We’ve all learned how to ask and to receive. It’s shown us the depth of care from our deep roots at church, the Denver Christian community, work, friends and that of the sprouts planted here in Florida.
7
Grief updates your navigation system.
I hesitated to include this last “good” found in grief but I succumbed. Why stop my transparency now?
On the eve of the third night after Carter’s accident, I was writing a post for his Caring Bridge site and I had a revelation. I’ve been wanting to write a book and have been struggling to find a topic worth a book—there’s plenty out there already.
I sobbed on Chuck’s shoulder as the selfish thought came to me—the accident has given me a subject, a personal experience and an unimaginable story. And, because of professional changes, I’ve been forced to navigate a new path. On this unchartered course, there’s now more time, more freedom for me to document in earnest the grief that has come to our family and…the good to come from it.
