Good grief, or maybe not

I've been reading a profound book about grief, loss and death. It's subtitled "the shadow side of ministry" and it's by a catholic priest. I haven't really processed the losses of our most recent move from chaplaincy to parish ministry. I do know of a catholic school chaplain who was also in a school for five years. He reported some years later that he slept for the following three years in the parish. Recovery, or grief? Probably both.
I remember when a friend died when I was a youth leader."Back in the day" is the kiwi term here for many long years ago. Well Duncan died when he crashed his bike on the way to a piano lesson. He was about 18. It was my first grief experience in which I thought I saw him a couple of times. After his death, that is. It was quite weird and yet I believe not unusual. I keep having the same experience - seeing people from my previous work at the school. No I am not seeing visions, but rather expressing my sadness at the losses I am still experiencing. I was blessed greatly by a skype call this week from a student. It was so nice to chat and share again in the life of a young man who not so long ago was mourning my departure.
My book is challenging. We hide behind our profession - priests and ministers tend to be a problem if they cry at funerals when they are supposed to be comforting the bereaved. And people prefer it that way. They don't want our doubts - rather they like our faith and hope expressed in the face of darkness.
So I do most of my weeping alone. It would be better to have angels with skin on helping me in those places of deep groaning. But it's not like that. I will read some more and share more later. Spare a thought for the parents around the world who mourn the death of their children at this time.
My losses are not that grim. With the exception of one tragic death my clients are still alive. I have lost the privilege of sharing their stories. I will still have many in my heart and memory, and I can still pray for them. May the seeds sown in those years still bring the delight of fruit that endures.