From the other side of Grief

Grief from the other side

Grief can be awkward. Uncomfortable. Squirm-producing. Claustrophobic. We don't know whether to show up or stay away. We don't know whether to look someone in the eye, or at their shoes. We don't know what to say, or if we should just be a silent presence. We don't know whether to embrace them in a great big hug, or whether their space bubble has already been burst and they can't handle one more person touching them right now.

In the past several years, I have found myself many times on one side or the other of this thing called grief.

As the one grieving, sometimes I long for the acknowledgment of my grief. Sometimes, I wish people would never bring it up. Sometimes, people don't realize the losses, and stumble unknowingly unto sensitive ground, and it's uncomfortable watching them squirm when they realize what they have done. Sometimes, it doesn't make the slightest difference what is said or done; just the reality of others still having the people I have lost hurts deeper than I could ever attempt to explain. Sometimes, I really am doing okay, and do I really have to explain why it's okay to feel okay?

But then I find myself on the other side of grief. I don't know where to look, or what to say. I feel clumsy, and in the way. The loss being experienced by others leaves a hole bigger than I can even wrap my mind around. I express my condolences, and walk away. I care, I just don't know how to express it.

As the one grieving, I just need to know my friends care, and are available. I need to know that they love me, even when they don't understand me, and even when they have not walked through some of the dark valleys I have walked. I don't want their lack of loss to stand in the way of our friendship; I want to be able to rejoice with them in their joys, and weep with them in their losses, and I want them to do the same for me.

But then I find myself on the other side of grief. I don't just want to stand by awkwardly, not knowing how to express that I care. I want my grieving friends to know that I love them, even when I don't understand every detail of their situation. If I have not lost in the same way they have, I don't want my lack of loss to stand in the way of our friendship.

Grief changes us. I am not the same person I was before I experienced grief. So when you look at me, don't expect to find the same person I was before I encountered grief. It's okay to learn to know me for the person I am now, but that doesn't mean you need to know every detail of the things I've experienced. Sometimes, that's why I'm not eager to be part of a crowd who used to know me. They want to know how I'm doing, and what's been happening. Sometimes, that's okay. But sometimes, I don't feel like Explaining Things. I just need grace, lots of grace.

And when I find myself on the other side of this thing called grief, I want to show grace, lots of grace.   

Don't Stir the Milk.

Easiest Homemade Pudding (or pie) Ever

Every time I make cream pie, as my mother taught me, I am amazed by the simplicity of it.

And utterly fascinated by this one detail unique to this recipe:
Pour your milk into the kettle.
Then SPRINKLE the sugar across the milk, and DO NOT STIR.
Turn your burner on high, and let it heat while you get all the other ingredients ready.
It won't burn.  Not unless you stir it.  Don't ask me why, but it works.  Unless you stir it.  Once you stir it, you have to keep stirring it, or it will burn.

Here's the recipe (with my subtle adaptations):
Heat, as instructed above:
2 1/2 C. Milk
1/4 c sugar (or double that if you like super-sweet things.  I don't.)

Meanwhile, put these in the blender (or a bowl, and use a handheld blender)
1/4 c corn starch
3 eggs
1/2 c milk
1 tsp vanilla
dash of salt (1/8 tsp max)

When the milk/sugar un-mixed mixture comes to a boil, pour in the blender mixture.  Be ready with your wire whisk, because now you have to whisk and keep whisking until it comes back to a boil.

Now, you've got vanilla pudding.  If you want chocolate, add 2-4 Tablespoons cocoa to the egg mixture.  If you want pie, pour it into a crust, and add bananas, toasted coconut, or peanut butter/powdered sugar crumbs.