The Healing Journey

September 27, 2026

Grief is a strange and patient teacher

By Maureen Munger

I was still in shock. My husband had come home from work feeling punk. As I was continuing to prepare dinner, he went into the bedroom to change and didn’t come out. I went to check and found him in severe pain. I called 911, and before the call ended, he pitched back violently on the bed. The heart attack we had feared had arrived.

EMTs and rescue arrived immediately and attempted to resuscitate him, but he was beyond their help. His life on this Earth was over. And in a sense, mine was, too.

And now, here we were, after family arrived, the wake and funeral arranged, the video and pictures set up, receiving visitors who streamed through expressing their condolences. Except, I felt a strange disconnect from the process. It seemed as if I were being asked to comfort them, assuage their feelings of loss and confusion, even as they attempted to do the same for me. Huh? What is this about? Is it normal? It certainly is exhausting.

Am I complaining? Maybe a little. It was a long time ago, and time passing has offered some perspective. Having experienced many more wakes and funerals, I see now that grief, however profound, does not provide a reason to prioritize our sadness and vulnerability over that of others.

Listening to the pain of family and friends, neighbors and clients, gave me a larger window into my own pain and opened me just a little at the time to realize just how connected we all are. But it was just a little. It took quite a while before that realization grew beyond the pain and became fruitful.

Grief is a strange and patient teacher, and the lessons it offers deserve our attention. For all the confusion, sadness, helplessness and loneliness accompanying the process, I’m oddly grateful still to be working through them, and please, God, I always will be.

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