Judgement in Grief, Part I: Cast off the Japanese Beetles

Judgement in Grief, Part I of 3

Throughout the late winter and early spring, I prepped areas around my rose shrubs to protect them from the arrival of Japanese beetles.

Remembering I’m someone who knew nothing about gardens three years ago, and started learning some last year; I discovered how these pests ate away at my rose shrubs. Many of them were given to us after Corrie’s death. One of the rose bushes died as fall came thanks to the Japanese beetles.

Last summer, I’d pick them off, but there were so many more. In the time between 2022 to 2023, I researched how to prevent Japanese beetles. I read about the traps, the powders, natural ways of killing them and prevention. I planted marigolds and geraniums around them.

As the season for them to appear starts, I observe my rose shrubs daily for any sign of them ready now if they come.

Dealing with judgement from others when you grieve is like that, too, especially if you’re judged as either “not grieving long enough,” or “grieving too much.” Part 1 of my series will talk about what it’s like to be judged while you grieve, part 2 why others judge when you grieve, and 3 will discuss ideas and solutions.

Do You Really Want to Judge these Footsteps?

I took some time to think about judgement because as I wrote in a recent Facebook post, the 2022-2023 school year was the first normal year I’d experienced in three years. I’m beginning to process, find answers, deal with what I can, and put the rest aside until I’m ready to deal with it.

But judgement, whether being judged or judging someone during grief, has been a part of reflection lately in the grief journey. I’m not the only one to experience it.

The Pathways Health Web page “How to Judge Someone’s Level of Grief,” says, “It can be tempting to judge others when they have gone through loss, but it’s important to remember everyone grieves in their own way.” The article doesn’t say “how to judge someone’s grief,” but the “level of,” because people may suffer from what is called prolonged grief. There are different types of grief.

It is personal, raw and real, and most importantly, it’s not for someone who hasn’t walked in those footsteps to judge.

When I first started writing Season of Corrie, much of the writing was raw and real based on the fact I’d witnessed her death and couldn’t release myself from the self-judgement that I was responsible. I was not a good enough mother because if I was, I would’ve saved her.

Ever so gradually, the writing in this journey of grief shows reflection, aims to hopefully help others, and celebrates Corrie’s life. Ever so slowly–and not in the time of Amazon Prime delivery–I’m finding joy and contentment again.

Fortunately, as I exit the more raw part of grief, which I still feel at times, I’m flexing my muscles. I’m reflecting, becoming more self-assured, and making myself laugh again. I’m also more outspoken because my path was never for any person to judge.

During the 2021-2022 school year, I was facing one year and a half after Corrie’s death, and in November 2021 the news that my husband had almost died of colon cancer. In the entirety of time period, I felt judgement from forces close to me. One of those had been near me after the event of Corrie’s death. The voices of judgement were few, but still existed.

At the time while I was dealing with dates for John’s chemo, I felt the icy distance and cold. I knew stuff was being said, but I had to deal with what steps we needed to take for John’s life rather than words cast without understanding.

Your Words Eventually Come to Light

I love my place of work, and enjoy being around the majority of people with whom I work. The school has kept me going through those dark days.

But I do believe what was in the dark will come to light. As I wrote, I felt and knew judgements about grief were made of me, but I didn’t know specifics. Sources came to me recently to share, and I smiled and simply said, “I guess they would’ve walked out the other side of all this better than me.”

I won’t repeat those statements made because (1) then I’m doing laundry in public, (2) it’s been one year, and (3) most of those negative sources are gone. It doesn’t do anyone any good to drudge up who said what and when in their limited perception and immaturity they could never understand.

Those comments irritated me when they came to light. But, I wasn’t surprised at all, and none of it made me look at myself as if: “Oh, I’m a horrible mom, person and teacher.” Instead of snapping back, I thought, Let’s discuss judgement in grief to help others come to some understanding.

Just as I prepped for the coming of this summer’s Japanese beetles, I prepared for words without weight. Words without knowledge. Words vented from those not missing a part of themselves.

Pastor Taylor’s Sermon Brought Light during Many Dark Times

My parents often tell the story how I fell asleep in church as a child and snored. I’d lay across the pew and take a nap. Only one sermon in my entire lifetime stayed with me because it was relevant to everyone.

When my parents moved to their current church, Pastor Taylor was their first. He told a sermon to the nature of that:

There was a village, and people would put star stickers on 
those who did things they liked. The put thumbs down stickers
on the ones who did things they disliked.  One boy dreaded 
walking out of the house each morning because people 
immediately put the thumbs down stickers on him. He'd 
walk down the street with his head down covered in them.

One day, the people weren't putting stickers on him because 
they were so busy admiring a woman in a beautiful dress.  The
people tried to put stars on her, but the stickers fell of.  Then the
people were mad because their stickers wouldn't stay. Then they
tried to put the thumbs down  stickers on her, and they wouldn't 
stay.  There was nothing they could do, so they walked away. 

The boy approached her after the crowd cleared and said, "How
did you get the stickers not to stay?" She took him to a giant door, 
and inside basically he met God. After that, no stickers would stay
on him either.

Not Alone

It has been said repeatedly that people grieve in different ways, just as the book on the shelf I grew up reading repeatedly speaks about how it is never our place to judge.

Matthew 7:2 “For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

Whether you are new to grief, only beginning to deal with it, or somewhere else in your grief journey; you aren’t alone. I know it feels impossible. I felt isolated and alone in that 2021-2022 school year. In many ways it was worse than the year following Corrie’s death because I thought: Oh no, now it’s been one year. People will expect me to be better and not talk about her.

It feels impossible in the darkest days. I say now to others that if someone has an issue with me talking about my daughter,”There’s the door. Bye.” I will cut someone and their influence out of my life quickly if I feel that judgement, (and I’ll discuss that more in the third part of this series).

Remember no one has the right to take anymore from you because you’ve already lost. If someone isn’t trying to help you rebuild, the relationship isn’t worth it. Your physical, mental and emotional health is worth your attention. You are important.

I will conclude that the increase of positive people and sources in my life this year has been a great help. I’m thankful to all of them.

By R.A. Bridges