It's Mother's Day weekend. This season is very joyful for
some and very difficult for others—when it seems the world has forgotten your
pain and Hallmark gives you another reason to feel that it isn’t fair.
C.S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one
person says to another, “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.” My hope
is that you will find that “me too” moment with someone as you seek support through whatever that might look like for you—a
faith community, a therapist, a friend who has walked a similar path.
Have you ever heard a song that said exactly what you would
want to say? Or a movie that felt like your own story? Sometimes those “me too”
moments show up in the least expected places. I saw a movie with my
girls this winter that felt like such a beautiful portrayal of grief. I am going to tell you the story of The Nutcracker
and the Four Realms. It occurred to me as I watched it that maybe grief itself
IS the fourth realm—that place that not everyone has been to, everyone will go
eventually, but that place that changes
you in ways you didn’t know was possible. I wonder if you resonate with any of
the themes.
The Nutracker tells the story of Clara, an imaginative
child, who lived with her father, her responsible older sister, and her younger
brother. Clara’s mother had just passed away just before Christmas. The story
opens with Clara in her imaginary world in the attic where she could be whoever
she wanted and escape what awaited—the first Christmas without Mother. When
finally summoned downstairs, there were gifts that Mother had prepared for them
to open after her death. (Do you find yourself dreading certain situations that
you will know will be painful?)
As soon as Fritz, the younger brother, sets eyes on the decorated tree, he is immediately horrified. “It’s not how mother did it,” Fritz expresses with disdain. Everyone is silenced, understanding that they all had noticed and he was the only one willing to say it out loud. (Do traditions feel different for you now?)
Clara’s sister’s gift is a dress that had been one of her
mother’s favorites. Father, who has spent much energy pretending everything is
normal, seems to have a glimmer of emotion when she tries it on. His immediate
response is to talk about the coming dance. “It’s important to do what’s
expected of us.” (Has there been anyone in your life that seems to determined
to go on as if nothing has changed?)
Clara’s gift is a music box with no key. It has a note that
says, “Everything you need is inside.” Clara struggles to understand the
meaning of the gift. (Have you struggled to find meaning in your loss?)
Clara protests doing what is expected. The world doesn’t
make sense to her any more, and she is on a journey to find meaning. Her sister
reprimands her: “Maybe you should spend
less time in the attic and more time in the real world.” (Have you ever felt
rushed to “move on” and “get in the real world”?)
Father, determined to carry on as though nothing is
different, requires the girls to dance with him at the party. Fritz, confused,
asks: “But who will dance with me?” (Can you identify some of the roles your
mother filled in your life that now feels like a hole?)
In the search of the key to the music box, Clara wanders off
from the party and finds her godfather, who tries to help her understand that
different people process their grief differently. “Some locks are harder to
pick than others.” He also reminisces about Clara’s mother as a child—a scared
orphan herself. Through her seeking she ends up in the 4th realm,
where she begins to encounter other people whose experiences and relationships
with her mother illuminated aspects of her mother that she never knew. First
she meets the captain and finds out that her mother was Queen of that Realm.
Clara, however, doesn’t know her place in this realm. She experiences anger, fear,
and confusion. Time seems to be different. (Have you found yourself disoriented
in the realm of grief? Does it seem like the rest of the world is going on at a
different place? Have you learned more about your mother in her death than you
knew in her life?)
Clara finds that she herself is the trigger for other
people’s grief. People say things like, “You are every inch your mother’s
daughter.” (Have you found that you have to help people process their grief
when they see you?”
In the 4th realm, Clara finds that the safe
people turn out to be different than who she expected. There is a lot of
disappointment that people she thought she could trust weren’t there for her.
(Have you been surprised at who has shown up for you in your grief?)
At the end of her journey through the 4th
realm—through the pain and the disappointment and the fear and the
confusion—she finds her way back to the people who are still in her life. “I
will miss her every day of my life,” she says, “but I don’t want to miss one
more minute with you or the others I love.” Despite her sadness, she is finally
able to dance again.
Friends, you are forever changed by your journey to the 4th
realm of grief and loss. You have met new friends who can companion with you
and have been disappointed by others who weren’t there when you needed them.
You may still be learning about your mother in ways that you never knew her
while she was still here. You may still be finding your way—your place in this
realm where other people seem to be just going on as normal.
C.S. Lewis writes, in A
Grief Observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not
afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the
stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.”
Brave friends, I know you will never “get over your loss,”
but I want to encourage you that someday you will be able to dance again.
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