09/28/2024
Something and Nothing Like Closure
Today's inspiration comes from:
Sideshow
by Rickey Smiley
Editorās note: You can find moments of peace through Jesus even after terrible loss. Comedian Rickey Smileyās new book Sideshow is an invitation from a fellow bereaved brother in Christ to find solace in God who is our strength. Rememberā¦ But, Godā¦ Enjoy this excerpt.
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We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. ā Romans 8:28 NIV
Can you ever truly find closure after losing a loved one? Itās a question that has haunted me in the months since my sonās passing, and hereās where Iāve landed.
Iām not sure finding closure is something we can ever really do when weāve lost a child. How would that even work? Closure isnāt something that just happens or that you stumble upon. In fact, we donāt find closure at all. We create it. For me, creating closure has meant actively facing my grief, head-on. Allowing myself to feel every raw emotion that comes with it. Thatās what I share with other grieving parents. If you feel like crying, cry. Get it out of your system. Let it out. Let the tears flow.
My therapist once told me that our brains can hold all our memories and emotions, including the ones from many years ago. And even when we donāt use them, they are there, like fossils, buried deep. In fact, according to researchers at NYUās Center for Neural Science, the brain stores fear memories through a āprocess called memory consolidation in which an experience is captured, or encoded, then stored.ā1 I know from firsthand experience that just because you donāt cry doesnāt mean the pain driving the tears you wonāt let fall isnāt still there. Our brains store all these feelings, and eventually they are going to come out one way or another. For me, once I got my children and close family squared away after the funeral, I could finally give myself permission to truly mourn the loss of my son in whatever way felt right to me.
Honestly, though, Iām not even sure closure is all about grieving. I think we create closure when we find a way to honor the memory of the person weāve lost. Every day that I show up to my life and live it in a way that would make my son proud, I am creating the closure I need. Every day that I stand on a stage and make people laugh, Iām creating the closure I need. In the wake of his passing, Iāve made it my mission not to allow the hard parts of generosity to stop me from extending a hand to anyone who needs it. Whether itās sending flowers to a grieving family or offering a shoulder to cry on, I will continue to do whatever I can to spread a little bit of light in the darkness, knowing just how much the light Iāve received has helped me see.
Now, Iāll be the first to admit that therapy wasnāt something I ever wanted to do. Iāve always been the kind of guy who preferred to handle things on his own. To soldier through the rough times with a smile on my face. But losing a child changes you in ways you never could have imagined. It shakes you to your core, leaving behind a void that feels impossible to fill. Thatās where therapy comes in. Itās like a life preserver. When I talk to my therapist, I know I am in a safe space to explore whatever complicated emotions might have shown up for me that week. I can unpack the grief and anger and regret that come with my loss.
Itās so important for us to be open to what God might do. To believe that God can orchestrate something good from the pain.
While itās changing a little bit, there are still parts of the Black community where itās hard to help people understand the benefits of therapy. We donāt want to talk to nobody. And in the Black church, the stigma can be even worse. We are taught to just pray about our pain and trauma. We are supposed to just leave it in Godās hands. We are indirectly told that if we are still feeling the pain of grief, then somehow, we donāt have enough faith. But I know from my experience that this is categorically untrue. My faith is what drives me to my therapistās office. I donāt ever have to divorce my trust in God from my need to receive help from someone who actually knows how the brain works, who knows how the body responds to emotional pain. Both things can be true.
I can love God and pray for my healing. I can also go to a professional who God uses to help me along the way.
Going to therapy, and encouraging my children to go to therapy, is one way Iāve regularly and actively tried to create closure. Therapy isnāt about being weak or broken. Not at all. For anyone struggling to heal from trauma or loss, who might be feeling like they are drowning, therapy is a lifeline. Itās an avenue I believe God uses to, as the Bible says, ā[heal] the brokenhearted and [bind] up [our] woundsā (Psalm 147:3). So I do encourage you not to be afraid to talk to someone.
Do I believe that Jesus is the ultimate therapist? Of course I do. In Matthew 11:28ā30, He said,
Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light. ā NIV
But I also think this same Bible passage is modeling for us a way we can approach our worries and grief in real time. Who else can we bring our burdens to and lay them down? A therapist might be a good starting place.
We create closure when we are generous with our time. We create it in therapy. And I think part of creating closure for ourselves when we are holding so much grief is remembering that even in the darkness of despair, there is a purpose.
Itās hard to hear that our grief has a purpose. We push back against the idea that God might use our pain for good because that feels wrong. And I get it. But if we believe that God is with us through the ups and downs of life and we also believe that God is good, then why wouldnāt we believe that God, in His awareness of all the things we go through, will somehow, as the ultimate Creator, transform our pain into something useful for us?
I really donāt think this is the same thing as believing God causes our pain. I canāt bring myself to believe that God ātook my son,ā even though thatās the language some people use as a way to make sense of things. The old church folks used to say, āGod wanted him back home.ā Or they might say, āWell, you loved him, but God loved him best.ā I kind of understand this because, in their own way, people are trying to reckon with this terrible thing that has happened. Itās a way to comprehend the incomprehensible.
Yet I question whether this is true, given our free will. We get to make our own choices. Iāve got to believe that when we make a choice that leads to our demise, the people who are left behind are comforted by God. Itās not that God inflicts pain upon us, but rather, He stands ready to offer solace and comfort through the indwelling of His Spirit.
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Excerpted with permission from Sideshow by Rickey Smiley, copyright Rickey Smiley.
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