In Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl says the following with regard to the inmates of a concentration camp, but I think that it is equally applicable to anyone imprisoned in grief or any other kind of suffering.
Any attempt to restore a man's inner strength in the camp had first to succeed in showing him some future goal. Nietzsche's words, “He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how”, could be the guiding motto for all psychotherapeutic and psycho-hygienic efforts regarding prisoners. Whenever there was an opportunity for it, one had to give them a why—an aim—for their lives, in order to strengthen them to bear the terrible how of their existence. Woe to him who saw no more sense in his life, no aim, no purpose, and therefore no point in carrying on. He was soon lost.
Frankl, Viktor 1984, 97–98 [emphasis added]
That makes so much sense to me. Somehow, I can find the strength, tenacity, courage, and faith to continue living by fixing my eyes on the future—my lecturing schedule, my ministry to the students, opportunities to use Linny’s illness and death as an entrée to sharing my faith with others, my duty to continue leading my family, my eventual reunion with Linny—in order to keep myself going through the darkness. I guess that what really puts the lid on all this—or the cherry on the top—is the Resurrection; the certainty that my physical death will not be an end, but a transition—a transition to something far better—better than I can ever ask or imagine. Thank You, Lord, for this blessed hope!
After you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 1 Peter 5:10 ESV
All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated; God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice; but God’s hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another. (Devotion XVII – John Donne)
Further on in Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl says:
When a man finds that it is his destiny to suffer, he will have to accept his suffering as his task; his single and unique task. He will have to acknowledge the fact that even in suffering he is unique and alone in the universe. No one can relieve him of his suffering or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden.…
Suffering had become a task on which we did not want to turn our backs. We had realized its hidden opportunities for achievement, the opportunities which caused the poet Rilke to write, “Wie viel ist aufzuleiden!” (How much suffering there is to get through!) Rilke spoke of “getting through suffering” as others would talk of “getting through work.”
There was no need to be ashamed of tears, for tears bore witness that a man had the greatest of courage, the courage to suffer. Only very few realized that. Shamefacedly some confessed occasionally that they had wept, like the comrade who answered my question of how he had gotten over his oedema, by confessing, “I have wept it out of my system.” Frankl 1984, 99–100
In the West, it seems that we still live under the illusion that suffering is an aberration, a violation of the happiness to which we claim a right. But, in living in a fallen, decaying world, suffering is, in fact, a normal part of existence, just as death is a normal part of life. Then, on top of this misapprehension, we pile another one—“cowboys don’t cry”! Why ever not? If suffering is a reality—and a normal one at that—why shouldn’t human emotions also be embraced as “normal”? We don’t suppress our joy and laughter when things are going well; so why should we suppress our grief and weeping when things are going non-well?
Emotionally, Western culture has shot itself in the foot. We need to learn from non-Western cultures that open, honest, expression of grief is part (a big part) of the prescription for bringing about healing; in a way, it’s a rite of passage. Some of our greatest suffering comes from the pressure imposed on us by society to “keep up appearances”, to “put on a brave front”. Who ever said that you stop being brave when you start crying? Perhaps it takes more courage to face the world through tears than dry-eyed.