A View from the Fog

As thick fog developed, Dorothy and I decided to caravan home. As the more experienced driver, I would lead. There were lighter patches of fog along the way. I used those to speed up hoping to get home as soon as possible. When I sped up, though, Dorothy’s headlights fell further behind. I slowed down each time so she could catch up. The fog thickened as the sun set. In the darkness, people passed who had no better visibility than we did. It was not always possible to see the road’s center line. South of Garnett the highway split. Dorothy was to take one branch and I the other. I pulled over to see if she wanted company on the remainder of her trip. She went on by, okay to go on alone. We were in more familiar territory. When I got home, I called to be sure that she had arrived safely. We had made it home through the fog.

Coming home, I led Dorothy through the fog. On February 22, 2015, Dorothy began leading me through another kind of dense fog. My parents died in an automobile accident that afternoon. With that, my mind went away into the fog. Dorothy and other friends who knew the way, who had been in the fog themselves, began to lead me. My journey through grief’s fog has been like that earlier trip. There have been people who breezed past me as though there was no fog. For them, the world had not been shockingly disrupted. They did not know. There have been patches where the fog has dissipated some, and I thought it was going to clear completely. It settles back in and dissipates again. I have been following people more experienced in navigating the fog of grief who know the territory intimately. They guide me, because they know where we are going.

I have lived this year in the fog of grief. My mind simply failed to work as it always had. I know from my reading that the fog is a common part of the process of grief. In the fog, I could not see my way from one task to another. I could not see a future without my parents. I could not see the need to go to my office or meet the needs of my clients.

In the fog, it is difficult to see your way. For those entering the fog of grief and loss, I offer my view from the fog. I hope that some of these insights will be helpful to you. I know that some will not be. If you are looking for answers, you will not find them here. I hope that you will find in these pages that you are not alone, and you are not “doing grief” wrong. All I have to offer is my experience within the fog and the hope that you, too, will move through it.

I am a Certified Lay Minister in the United Methodist Church.

I am an Elder Law Attorney.

I am an adult orphan.

I am still moving through the fog.

Beth Elaine Hodgson, aka “Mom,” was a United Methodist pastor. She led the Plum Creek United Methodist Church for seventeen years. She was a room mother, a Scout leader, and an advocate for her kids. I love her dearly. I miss her terribly.

Willis Dean Hodgson, aka “Pop,” was a retired public accountant. He was an active member of the Plum Creek United Methodist Church. He was my sports-watching buddy and my niece and nephew’s super-fan. I love him dearly. I miss him terribly.

My family and my faith are inextricably intertwined. My parents enveloped me in faith from birth. We always attended worship and special celebrations together. Jesus has always been a member of my family and we of his. My family is foundational to an understanding of who I am. Mom could not go more than three days without talking with my brother and me on the phone. If she did not see her grandkids for three days, she became physically ill. She would have Pop drive by the school for a chance at a Dara or Layton sighting. My parents were my notary and witness in my law practice. Mom and I collaborated on sermon and worship ideas. We lived together, travelled together, ate together, and worshipped together. We were joined at the hip. This is the nature of my loss.

This is the story of life without my parents. It is my view from the fog. In the following pages you will find some transcripts of texts with one of my dearest friends and excerpts from a few of the sermons I have preached since the accident. You may find the transcripts of texts to be a bit clunky, but I want you to hear from Jane in her own words. She shared both wisdom and love. I kept a journal. Excerpts from it also appear. I pray that you will find peace in your journey through the fog.