Acute Grief for my Catholic Mom

Louisa Ikena reflects on fresh grief as she mourns the loss of her mother.

As I sit down to write this article, five days have passed since my mom died. The details are not as important to me as the feelings I need and want to communicate. How do we grieve in light of faith? I know there is no magic formula. There is no manual for grief. I am willing to bet that grieving is different for every person, every time. For me, I have the ambitious goal of feeling my feelings, not numbing them. That means feeling the painful ones in addition to feeling the joyful ones.

My mother is not the first death in my life by any stretch of the imagination. We buried my father about eight years ago. The acute grief at that time rendered me barely functional at times. I’m grateful on day 5 at least, to be able, with God’s grace, to put one foot in front of the other.

The tears have come in waves. I have experienced tearing, crying, and sobbing. Each level of tears is more intense than the previous. I have experienced sobbing so hard that I cannot even blow my nose anymore because its discharge is coming so intensely. In those moments of pain, all I can do is breathe. I breathe and the wave of grief passes, and I feel wrung out like a sponge.

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I am not sure there is such thing as straightforward grief. Grief, for me, is complicated. The good memories, the bad memories, and everything in between blend together. I find it all part of the package deal, and sometimes I wish I had a different package. Yet I am told acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. That is all well and good in theory, but it sure is hard in real life, when the rubber meets the road.

As a kid and adolescent, I naively articulated that whatever happens in my life, I want to live life to the fullest. I think St. Irenaeus agrees when he is quoted as saying, “The glory of God is man fully alive." What I did not know then is that living life to the fullest included the fullest pain as well as the fullest joy. We do not know what we do not know.

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Living life to the fullest includes the fullest pain as well as the fullest joy. #CatholicMom

Our Lord knows fully. He was a man: 100% human and 100% divine, fully alive. We know He knew grief: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). He modeled for us how to feel our feelings. I know when I invite Him in, He not only shows me the way, He is the Way. In my mind’s eye I can see Him holding me, weeping with me, being with me. I am blessed with friends who can and do hold that space for me. I can cry with them without fear that they are going to try to “fix” me because of their own discomfort. When a friend holds that space for me as I cry, it is such a priceless gift. I am seen, I am heard, I am known, I am loved.

That litany is exactly what I imagine Mom is experiencing in the Presence of our Lord Jesus. She is seen, she is heard, she is known, she is loved.

Mom, I believe the struggle is over. In heaven "there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain” (Revelation 21:4). Sing your heart out, Mom. I know, God willing, I will see you again. May the souls of the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

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