Grief never leaves, but you can learn to carry it

By BETH DONZE
Clarion Herald

God is good … all the time!

It’s the opening statement delivered by speakers – and echoed back by the audience – at nearly every Catholic youth conference I have covered for the Clarion Herald over the past 23 years.

For most of that time, I would repeat those words without hesitation, without even thinking about what they truly meant.

Of course, God is good … all the time. Life generally goes rather swimmingly for those of us who have eyes that see and legs that carry us around, who sleep in warm beds and have food in our bellies.

But ever since the wee hours of Nov. 3, 2018, a part of me winces whenever I hear a crowd of people shouting, “God is good … all the time!” 

That morning, Frank – my best friend for 30 years and soulmate-husband for 27 – died next to me in his sleep, suddenly and peacefully.

How could this happen, God?

Frank had recently turned a young 64. I had sung that Beatles song to him only 17 days earlier, on the morning of his birthday.

It didn’t seem – at least to me, my two daughters and my husband’s army of friends and family – that God was good … all the time.

Literal punch to the gut

No matter how much faith I thought I had, I found it hard not to descend into the darkness. Who knew the waves of grief and anger would not only take a spiritual toll, but a physical one that’s rarely discussed in polite society – the kind that etches lines into your forehead, drives you to eat too little or too much, that makes you lose your breath and have the feeling you’re going to get an ulcer. 

In the weeks and months following my bereavement, well-meaning friends would offer me words of consolation related to the “God is good” statement – “Be strong” and “Frank is in a better place now” being the most common of them. Although intended as a message of comfort, the imperative “be strong” especially made me recoil.

You see, I needed to be “weak”; I wanted to be weak; if you’re not weak after the death of a beloved spouse, father and friend, when exactly are you supposed to feel weak – right? I knew Frank was in heaven, but it didn’t seem like God was being “good” to me!

So, being told to “be strong” – and feeling the polar opposite – only made me feel like I was failing some sort of cosmic test.

Looking for light

Five years on, my little family has come such a long way.

Although we will never “get over” Frank’s loss, we have learned to carry our grief a little better (thanks to the wonderful priest who gave me this “carrying” metaphor).

Part of being an abler “carrier of grief” means striving each day to see the ways that God is, indeed, “good … all the time.”

Sometimes we have to strain our eyes to see it, but shoots of new life have sprouted from our irreplaceable loss: the family members who are now more vigilant about their health due to Frank’s premature passing; the woman who credited Frank’s goodness for inspiring her to resolve a longtime feud with a relative; the fund set up by Frank’s former colleagues to help young aspiring journalists pay for housing at his alma mater of LSU.

A whopper of a blessing was made known to me by a Catholic deacon who pulled me aside after Mass to say that he thinks of Frank being among the communion of saints during the Eucharistic Prayer!

Finding new purpose

I have also cultivated “new life” within myself since Frank’s death, in part by deepening friendships I had neglected because Frank and I had been so content to spend every waking moment together, just the two of us. Since 2018, I have scrambled up hillsides from North Carolina to England, stepped up my organizational skills and have become ridiculously equipped to be there for my fellow widows (because no one really “gets it” until losing a spouse happens to them).

I now can laugh at the irony of the Medicare sign-up offers addressed to “Frank Donze” that arrive in my mailbox at least weekly, and I find solace in how my precious husband didn’t have to suffer through a global pandemic, an attack on the Capitol and a storm named Ida.

I now know that the amount of grief you experience is equal to the love you had for that person, and, as a result, grief sits oddly next to its twin: overwhelming gratitude.

Cycle of life

Of course, the best signs of new life are seeing how Frank continues to sparkle through our two daughters – their always standing up for what is right, their kindness, humility, wit, curiosity and keen intelligence. They are, as Frank would describe them in his understated way, “solid citizens.”

God is good …. all the time.

He certainly was this past April, when I had the bittersweet privilege of walking our daughter Victoria down the aisle of Our Lady of the Rosary Church and into the arms of her groom, our first “son” Chris.

Frank was with us, beaming with pride and smiling a smile that made his cherubic cheeks hurt. 

“God is good … all the time” – it’s a sentence I still struggle to finish, especially when I am having one of those glass-half-empty days.

So, dear Jesus, I ask you to please help me to keep my glass full and my eyes trained on the promise of eternal life. Thank you for allowing Frank to continue to walk with us, and for always scattering the darkness with light.

Beth Donze is a staff writer for the Clarion Herald and the editor of Kids’ Clarion. She can be reached at [email protected].

To access a listing, by church parish, of grief-support ministries offered in the Archdiocese of New Orleans, visit https://clarionherald.org/news/parishes-minister-with-funeral-planning-grief-support-1.