Stone Soup: Loss as a Teacher

Everyone has a story, everyone has experienced loss. Some lives seem to be filled with much more than others, but none of us escapes this world without losing something or someone dear to us. I lost my pet dog Snoozy when I was ten years old, and it was the first of many losses in my life. I cried every day for three months straight and was certain my heart was breaking. I now appreciate that although I was devastated at losing him, this was life’s way of giving me a test run for all the losses up ahead – an inoculation of sorts. Loss is a teacher if we are ready to be the student.

Here’s a short list of what I’ve learned:

1. When your heart cracks open from loss and you think you are going to die from the pain, you suddenly find love seeping in through the cracks from other sources you forgot were there.

2. You really do get stronger through loss, but it’s still a bitch.

3. That part about God not giving you more than you can handle? Not true, but you do get people in your life to help you through - the hard part is letting them.

4. Don’t judge anyone else’s reactions to loss; you have no idea what they have suffered. What shows on the outside is not reflective of what may going on inside.

5. Every time you lose someone, it takes a little piece of you away-the challenge is to continue to find small joys in life that can add to your sense of wholeness.

6. Not everyone can be there for us during loss-it’s disappointing but true, find your real friends and hold on tight.

7. Never underestimate what the tiniest efforts to assuage someone’s loss can do-it’s much better to say something stupid than to say nothing at all.

8. There are no special words of wisdom to offer when someone experiences a loss, but being present and offering silent solidarity is often golden.

9. Loss and the suffering that follows can make you bitter or better, it’s a choice.

10. You can either run from loss and fear it, or accept it. The former brings more suffering, the latter brings peace.

When my friend Marilyn lost her husband unexpectedly, I found myself back at her house after the funeral with several other women friends. All of us gathered in the living room and suddenly there was a moment where no one knew what to say. Marilyn looked at me and said “Therese, would you just sing me a song?” Now please understand, I am not a gifted singer, but I do know the words to just about every musical known to man, and countless folk songs, jazz tunes, popular jingles, Negro spirituals and hymns as well.

Do you think, in a moment such as this with a silent pall about the room and everyone’s gaze on me, that I could cull an appropriate song from the plethora that is my repertoire? Uh no. I blanked, biffed, completely zoned out and could not think of ONE SINGLE SONG.

The seconds ticked by, her simple request hanging in the air. Then one song came to me, completely wrong for the occasion and woefully inadequate to assuage her grief, but it’s all I had so I launched into it a cappella. It was “Gary Indiana” from The Music Man. That was the longest two minutes of my life as my face turned red and I could see various friends shifting in their seats, I’m certain embarrassed for me.

When I was done I looked up sheepishly and found my friend beaming. She didn’t care what I chose to sing, she only cared that she had asked and I had given her what I had. That taught me a big lesson about loss: Don’t’ wait till you have the perfect gift, give what you have with all your heart and it will be enough.