Life Beyond the Pall

Pall—a casket covering used during the funeral, from the Latin pallium, or cloak.

The days following Jim’s death were a flurry of activity—trips to the mortuary and cemetery, planning his celebration of life service, numerous necessary phone calls and texts, and people constantly in and out of the house. I was focused on doing the next activity, as I soaked in the love and support of family and friends.

After the cemetery committal, I asked to bring the pall flowers home because bad weather was forecast for the next day. I saw no reason for the flowers to perish in the coming storm when we could enjoy them at home. We placed the flowers on the hood of Jim’s car (he would have liked that, by the way). Over the course of the next week, I enjoyed those flowers, but also watched them droop.

One day, the Lord whispered, “These flowers are a picture of your grief. Just as they slowly fade, with time, so will your grief.” I’m holding on to that promise.

Reflections on Life After Everyone Goes Home

Watching the Flowers Fade

One of the little hard things about life beyond the pall is watching the flowers wilt. At first, you do what you can to perk them up. Then, you begin removing flowers that are fading fast. Several days later, you head to the trash can with what was once vibrant and beautiful.

Dismantling the flower arrangements and floral sprays is one of the hardest tasks I’ve done thus far because it feels so real, so raw, so final.

Initially, I felt myself drooping with the floral arrangements. Then, as I worked, I noticed a few flowers still retained some luster. I gathered them and arranged them in two vases, making something beautiful again from that which was decaying.

Molding the difficult into something new and beautiful is part of the grieving, healing process. Everything has a season. Along with the seasons of joy and celebration come seasons of mourning and loss. These rolling highs and lows are how life works. For each fading flower comes the remembrance of former beauty, love, comfort, and the hope of forward motion.

Brain Fog

In the last two weeks, I’ve experienced what I dubbed “brain fog,” the inability to stay on task and move through the days in a logical pattern. For those of us who are organized and task-oriented, “brain fog” is a disturbing sensation. Brain delay, especially for simple tasks, is disconcerting, but totally normal following the shock of loss.

One day, as I sat at the breakfast table, I read sympathy cards, replayed portions of Jim’s celebration of life service, looked at pictures, and read several devotional book offerings. That time at the kitchen table was like falling into a time warp. When I finally looked at the clock, I was shocked to see it was 1:30 pm.

With a little research, I discovered “grief brain” (a temporary condition caused by the trauma of loss, especially if the death is unexpected) is real. I believe God provides this temporary condition to allow time to process loss and come to grips with your new circumstances.

While “brain fog” feels odd, I’m thankful for this cushion against reality. During the foggy days, give yourself grace. Pay attention to the physical as well as mental and emotional exhaustion of grief. You don’t have to rush through a to-do list. Rest and be patient with yourself.

Let Emotion Happen

Since Jim’s death, I’ve awakened every night around 2:00 a.m. Last night, I laughed when I looked at the clock, and said aloud, “Hello, 2:00 a.m., my new friend!”

Some nights in the 2s, I feel warm and secure and relive happy memories, but one night, sadness bubbled inside me. Tears streamed down the sides of my face, wetting my pillow. Suddenly, a long, low groan escaped my lips. I was surprised by this utterance, but knew it was a release of emotion that was good.

The words of Romans 8:26 NLT came to mind, “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.”

As you grieve, allow emotions, even when they feel inconvenient and unwanted.

Nourish Spiritually

Today, I cracked open my Bible for the first time since January 3, not because I am mad at God, but because my attention span is so brief. But as I fell into God’s Word, I felt a familiar sense of comfort, encouragement, and nourishment.

God’s Word is the bread of life, as fresh today as it was when first penned. I’m diving into this rich breadbasket and eating my fill in the coming days.

In the unwanted journey of grief, remember the importance of spiritual nourishment. Stay connect to Eternal God and He will carry you through.

“Even in the unending shadows of death’s darkness, I am not overcome by fear. Because You are with me in those dark moments, near with Your protection and guidance, I am comforted” (Psalm 23:4 VOICE).

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Candy Arrington is a writer, blogger, speaker, and freelance editor. She often writes on tough topics with a focus on moving through, and beyond, difficult life circumstances. Candy has written hundreds of articles, stories, and devotionals published by numerous outlets including: Inspiration.org, Arisedaily.com, CBN.com, Healthgrades.com, Care.com, Focus on the Family, NextAvenue.org, CountryLiving.com, and Writer’s Digest. Candy’s books include Life on Pause: Learning to Wait Well (Bold Vision Books), When Your Aging Parent Needs Care (Harvest House), and AFTERSHOCK: Help, Hope, and Healing in the Wake of Suicide (B&H Publishing Group).

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