Childhood Grief and Healing

We left four-year-old, actually three-year-old, Debbie on the front porch, alone, waiting for her grandpa to come and pick her up.

He didn’t come, he couldn’t come. He had died in a work accident.

Now all these years later, who is going to rescue this lost little three-year old inside me?

I only see one candidate: me. The adult me. With some help from my therapist. Supported wholly by the Holy Spirit.

I didn’t want to cry alone. In my memory, I was still frozen on that porch.

Beginning to Thaw

Thankfully I already had an appointment with my therapist.

Tears have not always come easy for me, though I’m letting them flow easier these days.

Before even sitting down, I told him I needed to cry, but I didn’t want to cry alone.

I read my blog to him. He said about my grandpa, “He was your person.”

Yep. And I cried. And cried.

I shared what memories I had, and the stories I’d been told.

We also talked about my first loss, my father, but I had cried about him before.

After the tears, we talked about what that little three-year-old needed.

I realized it was a lie that she was abandoned on the porch.

Jesus Was with Me

I was never alone on the porch.

Jesus was with me.

Jesus was always welcoming to children (Matt. 19:14) and said that they have protective angels (Matt. 18:10).

I have believed for a long time that I have two guardian angels. And I named them Wilbur and Gus. I always felt apologetic for these names, but I thought I’d look them up.

Oh.

Wilbur is “Resolute Protector.”
And Gus happens to be short for the month I was born in, August, which means “Inspiring Reverence.”

Now, you don’t have to believe me or believe I have angels I’ve never seen, but I was startled by the meanings of these names.

The meanings reminded me that amid deep grief and a chaotic home, I was not without protection or encouragement.

Looking back, the little girl on the porch was not nearly as alone as she believed.

Mama Cared for Me

The little girl in my memory was frozen on the porch, but the real little girl was not abandoned.

Mama came and brought me in and explained as best she could that grandpa couldn’t come get me.

The grief was hard for her as well.
My mother was grieving too.
Less than four years earlier, she had lost my father.
Now another beloved family member was gone.

He was my person. We delighted in each other.

The ache in her heart was that I could not understand what grief even meant.

Yet.

Let’s Get Debbie Off the Porch

Children deal with grief in small doses. My therapist let me cry and then we talked about what likely happened.

Now it was time to get Debbie off the porch. He suggested we reparent her, the way I thought she could hear and understand what was happening.

In my imagination, I brought her inside the house and sat down with her. I introduced myself to her as the adult Deb.

I let her know that grandpa had been in an accident and had died. I talked about what that meant and that he was with God in Heaven and explained that.

I told her that Grandpa and Dad are with God in Heaven. We’ll see them again. And until then, God has been our Father all along.

I said, through tears, life hasn’t always been easy, but we’ve gotten through it. We are doing pretty well and I brought her up to date with Pat and our grown sons.

After a while of asking and answering questions, she said she’d like to ride Esmerelda (the e-bike) with me, as long as I didn’t crash. We laughed.

Integration of Grieving or Wounded Parts

My reason for bringing you along on this journey isn’t because my story is unique. It’s because I suspect many of us carry younger grieving parts that still need attention.

I am much less likely to throw a fit like a three-year-old if I have welcomed her grief to the table and acknowledged it.

She doesn’t need to scream to get my attention anymore.

As I learned about the younger grieving and wounded parts of me, I learned that they are valuable. I no longer want to banish or keep hiding them. I want to learn how to bring them into the whole of me — to integrate them.

They have wisdom, experience and compassion that broadens me and makes me stronger, not weaker.

I hope this helps you begin to understand that our overreactions or “extra” emotions can be tied to lies we believe, hidden grief, or other wounds.

Our reactions made sense at the time they first occurred and are not as helpful as we physically age.

Paying attention to outsized reactions can give clues to where there is work to be done.

The healing process keeps uncovering new things to explore and write about.
If you have anything you’d like us to talk about, please comment below.

If you have any questions or thoughts, please feel free to comment below. Comments are moderated for safety and respect, but I’ll read each one.