Grace in the Midst of Grief

By: Rich Lamb

 My wife Betsy and I came to Bloomfield Hills and Christ Church Cranbrook in 1977 when we came to teach at Cranbrook Schools. We became formal members of Christ Church in 1984 when our son Andy was born, and our daughter Katie followed years later.

Betsy had a great deal of energy and enthusiasm, which she brought to her roles at Cranbrook. She had seemingly endless energy, keeping up with the kids. She described herself as the Energizer Bunny. However, in more recent years, Betsy began to slow down. I broached the idea of retirement plans with increasing frequency, only to hear Betsy’s repeated answer, “I’m not ready yet.” After forty-five plus years of marriage, I wanted to begin to ease off our jobs and figure out our next roles in life. But to Betsy, “retirement” became a four-letter word.

In 2019, we moved from the Cranbrook campus to a condo in Bloomfield Hills. Betsy became less mobile; where, in previous years, it was a minor bother, it now affected her walking. I hoped moving to the condo, which was all on one floor, would make things easier. Unfortunately, it did not. I became a caregiver to Betsy, which seemed strange to me as she had been the caretaker to me when I broke my left hip, and sometime later, followed by the right. But now I was in the caretaker role.

The idea of someone close to you passing away is an obviously unpleasant thought. One probably expects to survive one’s parents, and also expects to pass before their children, for example. But what if someone passes who is close to one’s own age? Sometime ago, I fully expected to die before Betsy. It simply appeared that she was in better health than I. But suddenly things were different.

One morning, I found Betsy face down on the floor, unable to get up. After two trips to the hospital and nursing facilities, the third and final time, Betsy checked in to Cedarbrook. Betsy and I had previously signed DNR requests, and I knew we had to put hers into effect. During this time, a resident of Cedarbrook, a previous lector/EM with me at Christ Church, heard of the situation, and spent many times with me as we sat with Betsy. I am grateful for her time, as it provided comfort and companionship for me. 

On a mid-July morning of 2021, Katie and I received a call from Cedarbrook: Betsy was dying. We were with Betsy when she died, and we held her hand as we talked to her. While we were deeply saddened, I also felt a sense of relief that she was no longer suffering. I kissed her, said a prayer, and remained holding her for a period until her body was removed. I spent quite a few days after that reminding myself I no longer needed to go see Betsy for our daily visits.

Less than two years later at the end of May, Katie called me. She was crying heavily, and I could not understand her. It turned out that Andy had died at his home in Avon, CT. He was thirty-nine years old.

My reaction to Andy’s death was very different than to Betsy’s. He was young with a daughter who just celebrated her seventh birthday; we had talked just two weeks before. What happened? I wondered. The autopsy indicated a death by an overdose of cocaine. While Katie and I knew he used drugs, the shock was horrific. Beyond the grief of mourning and crying, I became angry that Andy had, in my mind, “Thrown his life away.” It took me time to realize that it was very counter-productive.

Andy’s funeral was about two months after his passing. In that time, I found myself deep in grief, reliving the whole scenario. I frequently became physically ill. At the reception, I collapsed. I remember saying to Father Bill, who asked how he could help, “Get me a container to get sick in, I’m going to vomit!” My concern at the time was staining the carpet tiles in Cranbrook Hall. I am very grateful to Bill for assisting me, holding the container as I filled it. It was truly a selfless humanitarian act!

So this time, it was my turn in the ambulance as I was taken to the hospital. I had a rather extended stay, as I had let myself become dehydrated. It had become clear that my grief was overwhelming.

That fall, I attended Understanding Your Grief, a group class on grief offered by Pastor Manisha. I found it extremely beneficial in processing and learning about my own grief. So much so I have returned every year since to share my story and try to assist others working to understand their own grief. Each year I find that this is helpful to me as well as to others in the group. I also light candles for Betsy and Andy before services, and enjoy visiting with them in the Easter garden.

If you have experienced the death of a loved one, I encourage you to take this class in hopes you learn how to better understand your grief.

Understanding Your Grief begins Sunday, Oct 19 at 2 PM. For more information or to sign-up, click here.

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