Another Kind of Grief

Life-altering illness can elicit devastating emotions of loss—for both patient and
caregiver.
By Cynthia Zahm Siegfried

By the time we reach middle age, most of us have lived through the death of a loved one. When each loss occurs, we
learn something about the process of handling death and grief as a part of life.

Although I’d experienced that kind of grief before, nothing prepared me for the sorrow I experienced when my
husband Jim was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer. I didn’t even recognize the torrent of emotions as grief.

I knew about the grieving stages first outlined by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (in her 1969 book On Death and
Dying), but I didn’t think her theory applied to me as a caregiver whose spouse was still alive. Though the stages—
anger, denial, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are most often associated with death, I learned that Kübler-
Ross applied them to any catastrophic event in a person’s life. And anyone who has a family member with cancer
knows how catastrophic that is.

In the wake of a life-threatening diagnosis, both the patient and the family are likely to go through some or all of these
emotional stages of grief from merely anticipating the impending loss. I found myself constantly thinking, How will I
handle Jim’s death? Will I spend the rest of my life alone? Will this sadness ever leave me?  Even if the disease isn’t
terminal, there’s still tremendous loss—loss of health, loss of occupation, loss of shared activities, loss of intimacy.

I didn’t think I had a right to my feelings. After all, I wasn’t the one who was sick. I was immeasurably depressed and
afraid, but guilt plagued me whenever I felt like complaining. I berated myself over and over like a merciless
coach: Stop this self-pity. You should be able to handle this. What kind of wimp are you? Where’s your faith?

I’ve since learned that all those emotions are, in fact, valid. Whether we’re grieving the loss of a parent, a marriage,
our job, or even a beloved pet, our pain matters to God—Scripture is clear on that. But it also shows us how to handle
emotions resulting from loss so that they don’t control or paralyze us.

Here are some of the simple actions that made all the difference for me throughout Jim’s illness.

IMMERSE yourself in God’s Word. In Psalm 119:28, David cries to the Lord, “My soul is weary with sorrow;
strengthen me according unto your word” (niv). We can’t find strength in Scripture if we don’t know it. Read from the
Psalms if you’re unfamiliar with the Bible; these transparent prayers reveal God’s heart and character and can often
give us the words to pray when we’re at a loss ourselves.

PRAISE God for who He is. Psalm 147:3 says that the Lord “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds”
(niv). But immediately before that, we read David’s words, “How good it is to sing praises to our God” (v. 1). Choosing
to honor God and willing ourselves to take joy in who He is opens the door that allows us to fully receive His comfort.

THANK Him for His past faithfulness. Philippians 4:6-7 tells us that to attain true peace, we should come to the Lord
with “thanksgiving.” Often, it’s the very times we feel least grateful that we most desperately need to give thanks ;
doing so actually opens our eyes to God’s ever-present goodness. At first, the words got stuck in my mouth, but as I
actually forced myself to sing worship songs, gratitude began to flow more naturally. Then I made a list of everything I
was grateful for—which amazingly wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined. I thanked the Lord for doctors who had found
Jim’s cancer, for our loving family and friends, and for the countless ways God had provided for my husband and me
during our 35-year marriage. And then I thanked Him in advance for the good He would bring out of our situation.

It was during this grueling time that I finally came to understand what Paul says in2 Corinthians 12:9: “Most gladly
therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (kjv). My grief didn’t disappear
overnight, but when I chose to press into God each time I was downhearted, He comforted me profoundly. To
experience joy in the midst of trial seems like a paradox, but joy and sorrow are actually arms extending from the
same emotion. And when emotions are raw, our senses are sharpened so that both extremes are far more acutely
felt. Jim and I discovered a deep joy possible only when sorrow is hovering close by.

So if your heart is breaking, choose to inject your grief with hope in the One who will never leave you. When you take
that step, you become aware of how His Spirit has come to walk alongside you through this valley. And miraculously,
you’ll find that His grace and peace beyond human understanding are, indeed, truly enough.