Rituals, Not Remedies

“Once a Hornet, always a Hornet.” Our LC Hornet family grieves deeply this week with the reality that two of our best and brightest are no longer with us. Brogan Franklin ’13 and Chelsea Meager ’14 both died in the past week as the result of unrelated car accidents. It is a painful and difficult time in the life of our community. Unfortunately we have been down this road before and mourned the untimely and tragic deaths of other students with other stories.

As a chaplain I often have the privilege of being involved a bit more directly and personally with those most affected by death. Yet I still find myself often at a loss with what to say and how best to respond. I’ve been to countless workshops on grief and I have read many books and articles on death, dying, and loss. However, sharing in the intimate and vulnerable moments of those who are grieving is still difficult.

As I’ve reflected on the most recent deaths of Brogan and Chelsea, and as I’ve seen the response of their families and friends, I have found that rituals are helpful and remedies are not. By rituals, I’m referring to symbolic ways of expressing grief, pain, sorrow and remembrance. By remedies, I’m referring primarily to well-meaning but often unhelpful responses intended to try and make sense of that which is ultimately a mystery. “God must have needed them more than we did. They are in a better place. It must have been their time.” More helpful than such remedy responses are simply expressions of solidarity and support: “I am so sorry for your loss…. You and your loved one will be in my thoughts and prayers…. My favorite memory of your loved one is….” Or perhaps most helpful of all is to simply say nothing, but just be with the person, offering your loving presence in quiet comfort.

Rituals as a means of expressing grief can also be helpful. In the entrance to Snidow Chapel we now have a “prayer wall” with several different ways of expressing spiritual thoughts and longings from magnetic poetry tiles to chalkboard drawings. At Brogan’s memorial service several people spontaneously wrote messages and reflections. Whenever the chapel is open, all are invited and encouraged to visit the wall and share your own remembrances.

At our annual candlelight Service of Remembrance, surviving loved ones lit candles and named loved ones while listening to moving harp and violin music. Many lingered after the service concluded, mesmerized by the glow of the flames in the midst of the darkened chapel. Another ritual to remember those who have died on our campus is to dedicate one of the red chairs on the dell. A simple plaque brings to mind the memory of the one who has died. Sitting quietly in the comfort of the chair allows for recollections to surface, for tears to be shed, and for grieving to unfold in its own time and pace.

Other rituals that can be helpful include journaling, reading and/or writing poetry, listening to music, visiting special places that bring our loved one to mind, releasing balloons, creative expressions such as photo montages or other visual art, etc. There are no right or wrong rituals, as long as the expressions we explore bring us some sense of comfort in the midst of our sorrow.

Although I was not fortunate enough to know Brogan Franklin, I understand that we was a very caring and creative young man deeply dedicated to the students he taught. I can remember Brogan by caring more deeply about the students I am blessed to know and to never take our time together for granted. I knew Chelsea by name and by face as she was often the first person I would see in Drysdale each morning. She staffed “On Common Ground” and offered me a warm, friendly, and spirited greeting in addition to my much needed cup of coffee. I can remember Chelsea by choosing to have a more positive attitude as I walk into my office each day, imagining her there wishing me well and encouraging me to have a good day.

As each of us confronts our own losses, I pray that we will find rituals of comfort and communities of support to accompany us lovingly and compassionately through our journeys of grief, now and in the days and weeks ahead.

Peace, Anne