Two years from now, the hospitals where I work will come together to form a new medical center. The new hospital will house our nursing units, trauma center, various specialty clinics, surgery and other diagnostic departments. The enormous construction project is 16 stories high with three towers and more than 40 elevators. The great effort of many is making this medical center one of the most innovative and technologically advanced facilities in the world. With all that exciting development, what is there to grieve?
Last week, two of my chaplains reported that the nurses on their respective units had realized they would have to leave their current units to move into the new facility. They began to talk about the grief of leaving a familiar place and stepping into an unknown space. One chaplain noted that one nurse manager got teary as she listened to her staff and then spoke about leaving her familiar office and unit. A physician then chimed in that “probably all the telephone numbers will change, too.” The grief associated with the upcoming change had seized these individuals and groups — even though the transition will not happen for another 24 months at this writing. This grief is called anticipatory grief.
Defining anticipatory grief
Anticipatory grief occurs whenever we realize a loss is on the horizon. This grief is typically associated with the terminal illness and impending death of a loved one. However, anticipatory grief is not limited to such events. It comes about whenever we become aware that a loss will occur.
Loss happens in all transitions of life. When we know those transitions are approaching, we can experience anticipatory grief.
Parents of high school seniors experience this form of grief when they realize their children will graduate high school and leave for college or a career in a year or so. This realization can cast a shadow over the celebratory senior year for both the parents and the student. Approaching retirement can also trigger anticipatory grief as the retiree ponders the loss of purpose and adjusts to a new life beyond full-time work. And one of the most challenging parts of aging is navigating through the losses we experience as we contend with physical and mental limitations alongside friends and family who are going through the same circumstances. As my father said when he was 85 years of age, “All I do is go to doctor appointments and funerals.” Anticipatory grief raises its head and bites us in each of these stages of life.
Anticipatory grief is not limited to gloomy, dour and depressing events. Opening a new medical center is an exciting, thrilling experience. A child’s graduation is an achievement. Retirement is an accomplishment. Yet amid these wonderful, rousing experiences, change is occurring — change that involves losing what was and stepping into the new. Loss happens in all transitions of life. When we know those transitions are approaching, we can experience anticipatory grief.
Lent as a season of anticipatory grief
During Lent, Christians are called to prepare for Easter, the celebration of the great mystery of resurrection. We in the Christian faith are deeply committed to understanding that there is more to our lives than the here and now. We embrace the belief that we will reside in the presence of God in eternity. Yet this belief does not erase the reality that the road to the resurrection travels through the “valley of the shadow of death.” Death is a reality for all of us. It was a reality for Jesus and remains a reality for all humanity. As we journey through Lent, the season becomes a time for us to experience the truth of anticipatory grief.
Lent begins with the account of Jesus in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11). This terrifying, excruciatingly difficult account describes Jesus’ encounter with evil and temptation. While we celebrate his resistance, there is a cost. Jesus is exhausted. The wilderness is a foreboding account of the griefs that are to come.
For us Christians living in the 21st century, our Lenten readings and meditations move us closer and closer to the cross each week. We journey through stories of rejection, betrayal and denial alongside accounts of wondrous miracles, healings and grace. We know where we are headed: to the cross, violent death and eventually an empty tomb. Anticipatory grief surrounds us throughout the season of Lent, when we can learn much about how to constructively work through it.
Several years ago, when I worked as a chaplain in a continuing care retirement community, a 90-year-old gentleman had experienced the death of his wife two years earlier. He had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, which he managed well. But at an appointment with his pulmonologist following X-rays, he learned that a spot was visible on his lung. The pulmonologist concluded that it was probably cancer. The physician recommended not doing a biopsy of the spot, noting that if it was cancer, chemotherapy and/or radiation would kill the gentleman. The physician advised this man to go home and enjoy his remaining days.
During our weekly Bible studies during Lent, this gentleman began to share his grief with the group. He knew he was dying. To his great surprise (and mine too), we learned that two other members of the group were facing similar circumstances. One of them was much younger, at only 62 years old. Yet all three shared in the experience of anticipatory grief as they pondered hospice care and, ultimately, their deaths.
Some wondrous things happened as a result of this encounter. The group surrounded each of these individuals with great care and support. When the older gentleman entered hospice and moved to the healthcare center’s nursing home section, the other five men in the group moved their breakfast gathering to that dining room. The group continued to eat breakfast with one another throughout the older gentleman’s five-month journey to death. Other group members arranged for the family of the younger dying resident to visit for lunch every week, with the members using their own complimentary visitor passes to pay for these family meals. In these ways, group members helped their friends through their respective journeys.
When the first gentleman began to decline, he said to his friends, “Thank you for giving me the courage to walk toward my cross. I realized that if Jesus could do that” – pointing to a cross on the wall – “I could do this. I could not have done it without your help.” This courage is a gift we can give one another when we accompany those experiencing anticipatory grief. We can support and care for them, and we can learn from them throughout the process. We begin by taking the risk to share our experience with those we trust.
Accompaniment, not withdrawal
Most of us tend to withdraw from one another when we experience a loss and the accompanying grief. While alone time can provide us with valuable time to reflect, it can also be quite destructive, leaving us lonely during a season of great need. Withdrawal is not the best coping skill. While sharing can be frightening, it usually leads to a more constructive outcome.
While alone time can provide us with valuable time to reflect, it can also be quite destructive, leaving us lonely during a season of great need.
A close friend discovered this during a truly challenging time. His son was arrested and charged with a felony offense. My friend found himself grieving all that was to come: a potential trial and sentencing, jail time, the loss of hopes and dreams, and the ongoing consequences of his son’s actions for the son and the family alike. The grief was overwhelming. My friend elected to tell selected, trusted colleagues and friends about his experience. He feared rejection and additional losses in his life. But what he received was an outpouring of support and care as individuals came to him with the stories of their own similar experiences with family and friends. Their support eased his grief and gave my friend courage and hope.
We come to know that grief is a strong part of the human experience and an important part of our faith journeys.
Grief is a beast none of us wants to meet. Yet life teaches us that we will all encounter grief along the way. Lent reminds us of this reality. Anticipatory grief is all around us every day. This fact is one challenge of being aware and proactive. We come to know that grief is a strong part of the human experience and an important part of our faith journeys.
The lessons of Lent
As we grieve, Lent teaches us important lessons. Jesus shares his grief with those closest to him. He tells them what is to come. While many do not listen, choosing instead to live in denial, he continues to tell them. As the time draws near, he models a healthy mix of needing alone time to pray and reflect, blended with engaging others in conversation and care. Jesus is even able to remain in dialogue with those opposed to him, a behavior that challenges all of us. Finally, Jesus surrounds himself with those closest to him as he prepares for his traumatic death. In each step through Lent, Jesus shows us how to constructively embrace our griefs.
Grief, including anticipatory grief, is part of a full life. None of us escapes grief. It is not an enemy to avoid. The only way to avoid grief is to live in isolation, which is neither healthy nor faithful. Even cloistered people usually live in groups. Grief is a reality, but fortunately, our faith teaches us how to work through grief.
As we encounter grief this Lent, may we all seek to follow the example Jesus provides. May we speak the truth with love, care, grace and hope. May we surround ourselves with supportive and caring people. May we give and receive expressions of care that we all need throughout our seasons of grief. And may we seek to be people who grieve with hope in every season of life, no matter what is to come.
