There’s something I’ve been wanting to write about for a while now, and I’ve hesitated because I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. (Plus, I should be working on my research paper that is due in ~2 weeks, but what’s one more day of procrastination?? O.o )

I read an article in preparation for my new job – which is starting off great, btw! – about family members (in particular, parents) of deployed service members. One of the traits that researchers have discovered such parents to exemplify is anticipatory grief. In my understanding, the essence of this phenomenon is that the parents mentally cope with the prospect of their son or daughter not returning home safely by slowly (or piecemeal) grieving their loss, as if it had already happened, or was imminent.

When I first read that, it struck me as brash, but then I realized that I have done the exact same thing as a spouse of a service member. If I told you how many nightmares I’ve had of all the what-ifs that could happen, you might have me committed. It’s like my brain has thought through countless scenarios, so that if one of them happens, then it won’t catch me so off-guard. (TMI alert, but each time in my dreams, I pass out or throw up on the front porch when the uniformed service members show up to tell me the news.)

All that is to say, I can see how parents of grown children who are serving in the military go through similar thought processes to cope with their son or daughter’s deployment.

But, it got me to thinking more …

I do the same thing with the kids.

Experiencing the death of my brother was, by far, the worst thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I have attended more funerals (I have a very large family) than I can even recollect, so it isn’t death that bothers me so much. I suppose it’s the suddenness of his accident, the close relationship that we shared and the earth-quaking ripple effect that his loss had on my life. It’s different when an elderly loved one dies; you miss them, but you reconcile with your heart/mind that it was inevitable.

Sometimes I find that I experience anticipatory grief with the boys. (This is the part where I hesitated to share, b/c you might worry about me.) Seriously, though – with every near-miss, I experience a split-second, graphic, imaginary scenario of what could have been. In that moment, my stomach churns, and my heart beats heavily, and I “feel” as if it actually happened. When a child gets separated from me (at Schlitterbahn, at the movie theater …), I try not to panic as my mind flies off at 100 mph about what-if they are gone forever?

I remind myself that God does not give us a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7), and yet grief seems to have become so prevalent in my life that it’s my go-to emotion. I want to trust that all of my loved ones are – and will be – ok/safe/healthy/happy, but life isn’t always candy and roses.

I used to subscribe to the theology that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, and the happy/pleasant/obstacle-free path must be his will. Yet, if we are truly to become more like Christ, then how can we do that without experiencing suffering? I don’t think that God wants us to live miserable lives – and I try to be quick to count my blessings – but I also don’t think that the easy, painless way is necessarily his preferred way. There are things we can only learn from being broken down to the very core of who we are.

Anticipatory grief may just be a coping mechanism to help me deal with the loss of my brother … who knows — perhaps so … but it also reminds me that sometimes there isn’t a darn thing I can do about what happens to me (or those I love), so I’d rather walk in reality than try to float among the clouds and pretend like pain and grief don’t exist.

Someone once told me that I have “extraordinary coping skills.” Perhaps I’m just jaded and have become more fatalistic than I ever imagined I would be.