This past Christmas, I experienced the loss of two family members. My stepfather and my brother died on Christmas Eve. Their deaths were sudden, violent, and tragic. My stepfather was murdered by my brother who was later shot dead by police. Immediate contributing factors were, we believe, my brother’s manic depressiveness and abuse of alcohol and methamphetamines, all of which doubtlessly exacerbated his reaction to criticism of his cooking skills: (it was an squabble over burnt “tater tots” which precipitated the “family dispute” which rapidly escalated, first to Mike’s physical assault of my mother, then of my stepfather, and finally to his resorting to the use of a gun as a final solution to the quarrel). Events from Mike’s early childhood, the divorce of his parents, for example, and some of his experiences in day care, may have distantly or indirectly influenced his mindset and behavior. Exactly what led him to react so violently and to murder his adopted father, whom he loved, and to resist police intervention by the extreme measure of firing at them, we may never fully comprehend. In the wake of these two deaths, as word spread and as the family gathered, I heard mentioned several times about this thing called grief and the “grieving process.”
Something more easily felt than explained, grief was in the air. One could literally feel it. It was on the lips of family members. It was the topic of pastoral counseling. We all felt it, we still feel it, and probably will continue to feel it for quite some time. Now that the funeral has passed, my thoughts have turned to examining just what it is, this grief.
