When Teddy Roosevelt was 25 years old, his wife and mother were both very sick and the doctor told Teddy it was quite possible they would both die and during this time Teddy put everything he had into lovingly caring for both his wife and mother. His mom was sick with typhoid fever and his wife, who had just given birth to their daughter, was dying of kidney failure. Roosevelt would go up the stairs to care for his beloved wife and run down the stairs to care for his mom.
Unfortunately, on February 14, 1884 at 3am in the morning his mother died. Later, on the very same day, his wife died at 3pm.
On this day of immense grief, Teddy wrote a big X to mark the day in his pocket journal and added, “The light has gone out of my life.” He later wrote that his life was over and had been lived. He was just 25 years when he penned these words.
In the face of this double loss and his depression, Roosevelt ended his burgeoning political career, left his newborn daughter in the care of his sister, and moved from New York to the Dakota Badlands to pursue ranching. The solitude, hard work, and time in nature proved to be a healing period that eventually led Roosevelt back to public life. In fact, even though Roosevelt went to Harvard for college and Columbia for Law School, he considered the two years being transformed by profound loss his “most important educational asset.”
In my own life, grief also continues to be my teacher. I have experienced grief though moving, a long journey of infertility, an early miscarriage, the death of pets, the death of many significant family members, in my prior work as a hospice chaplain, and in other ways. How has grief been one of your most important educational assets?
Roosevelt did not write or speak much about his grief experience, but I imagine he felt some typical grief reactions following the death of his mom and daughter, but also as he grieved the loss of his political career and the absence of his newborn daughter. Maybe Roosevelt had some of these normal grief reactions:
• I never knew it would hurt so bad.
• I feel guilty.
• I feel as if it isn’t real.
• I have a heavy feeling in my chest.
• I constantly feel on the verge of tears.
• What is there left to live for?
• I feel angry.
• I can’t concentrate.
• I sense my loved one’s presence.
• I don’t want to eat.
• I am eating all the time.
• I can’t sleep.
• Why would God let this happen?
• I miss cuddling with my loved one.
• The cliché comments people make are so invalidating.
• I feel empty.
• I feel so lonely.
• I wish I could talk to __________one more time.
My dad died 5 years ago and it took me 5 years to finally take his collection of miniature dogs to donate to the thrift store. He probably had a 100 porcelain, glass, and wood dogs that he proudly displayed in his office and later at his home, to represent his love of dogs.
My dad was an avid dog lover. If we passed a dog on a walk, it would always bring him great delight to talk to the dog’s owner, learn the dog’s name, guess the breed of the dog, and pet the dog. My dad’s soul delighted in his own pets and any dog he encountered.
Dog is God spelled backwards and I always felt like my dad saw the very image of God in every dog he encountered. If you know a pet whisperer in your own life, this might give you a glimpse into my dad’s spirit. When I helped him set up his first e-mail account he chose the name of his dog as his password.
We let attendees of my dad’s memorial service pick out one porcelain dog figurine in memory and honor of my dad, but there were still about 50 sitting in my attic collecting dust. They were in the attic because I was not quite ready to let go of this part of him that I loved. I was finally able to give my dad’s unique dog collection away when I realized that there were other dog lovers in the world, who would find great joy in owning a piece of my dad’s collection.
Giving away my dad’s dog collection to the thrift store became a ritual for me that was a layer in healing my grief over my dad’s death. Just as a funeral can be an important grief ritual, the act of letting go of this collection and imagining his collectable dog figurines in good homes became a healing moment for me. I imagine Teddy Roosevelt’s time being a cowboy in the Badlands was also a healing act for him, as he found solace in the rugged wilderness.
I began this article with an illustration of Teddy Roosevelt and the pain he encountered on the day both his wife and mom died. I think it is important for us all to know that 14 years after the day of these deaths Teddy Roosevelt became the youngest President of the United States. Roosevelt’s story almost sounds like a Cinderella story where the protagonist encounters great trials, but ultimately lives happily ever after. And while Roosevelt would continue to have hardships, his story teaches the listener something quite profound about the importance of really allowing yourself to feel the tragedy of what you are going through. Remember Roosevelt’s words, “The light has gone out of my life.” I think if we are honest each one of us here have had days where we have uttered similar words. Like Roosevelt you have likely had a day you wanted to mark with an X on your calendar.
You will continually experience moments where life brings unexpected grief and disappointments, and yet I think Roosevelt’s story is a reminder that when your life doesn’t turn out the way you want or expect, it is healthy to express feelings and to find ways to give sorrow words. Roosevelt’s grief experiences are also a reminder that your darkest times of grief can also sometimes eventually be redemptive and these painful times can eventually teach, transform, and strengthen you in a variety of unexpected ways.
A version of this article was originally published in the Lookout Mountain Mirror.
