Good grief! That statement is an oxymoron if there ever was one — at least at first glance. But, can it really be good?

It’s painful, no doubt. Unlike having a bad tooth extracted, it doesn’t heal quickly; soon to be forgotten. If it was only that simple … but it is anything but.

Just when you think you are making progress at working through the hard part, wham! It smacks you right in the face full force yet again.

When my husband of 58 years left this mortal vale 19 months ago, my opportunity and obligation to grieve was necessarily placed on hold. The most important thing for me was to survive the devastating illness that had plagued me and worn me down to nothing. It was literally a fight for my very life.

My faith saw me through that first year of devastation —with help and much tender loving care from patient and loving family and friends.

Ready or not, my very being refuses to allow me the luxury to postpone the hard work of grieving any longer.

Since 2000, I’ve grieved the loss of my son — and I still do.

Though, in so many ways, I grieved over three years for my husband as his mind slipped further and further into the oblivion of dementia, the finality is now tangible.

After a lovely and delightful two-month visit with family and friends, I returned to the emptiness and quiet of home— truly a first for me. Even our beloved pet had to be put down Thanksgiving week, so there was no one to need me— another first in my memory.

As a firstborn, there was always a sibling to care for or chore needing to be done. Being footloose and fancy free is not all it’s cracked up to be — especially as a septuagenarian. Oh, I have still been known to kick up my heels a bit — but only for a brief period and not too high off solid footing.

Upon returning home, I hit the ground running. There was so much to be done and catch up on. Add three funerals to the mix. The mind was willing but the body shut down, and being still for a little bit is all that was needed to crack the armor and allow grief to rear its ugly head. And it did.

Don’t misunderstand me. Grief is a good thing — truly, it is. It’s therapeutic. While it grips us, healing takes place, but not without cost or pain. Sort of like removing a diseased appendix — it hurts like the dickens, but once healed, you will feel better than in a very long time.

The thing that strikes me is that it doesn’t come, heal and then leave. Oh, no. Just when one thinks they’re through with it, it catches you off guard and the tears flow, the sadness and loss return. You feel as if there has been no progress at all and yet, there is.

The stays become shorter. More of the good memories surface, and they are what we miss most. If you have more good memories of your loved one than bad, rejoice in that. Cling to them. Experience the joy vicariously that you felt at the time.

Be realistic. As much as I miss my husband, there were times best forgotten. Just because we focus on the good times doesn’t mean there weren’t hard ones to keep things in balance and perspective.

Dwell on the good memories, but pass by the bad ones as quickly as possible. This is not a suggestion to place your loved one on a pedestal or make them out to be an impossible to attain role model. It’s for your own well-being.

There are enough negatives in each and every day, so don’t lump your loved one into that category. Put them and your memories of them in their rightful and proper place.

There is no time limit for grief. Long periods can go by without shedding a tear and then something, generally insignificant to others but of extreme significance to you, can send you back in your memories. The times will eventually become further between and sweeter, more often than not.

Your love will never die. Their memory will never leave you. Cherish the joyous times and quickly send the negative ones packing.

As painful as it is to endure, we do it alone truly because nobody else has the same memories, lessons and experiences as you and your loved one. Grief truly is good because it gives a place for your love to go. It’s good because it’s therapeutic. It’s good to have faith that you will see your loved one again one sweet day. It’s a process.