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Your grief is as individual as you are.

Grief knocked at my door today, and I let her in.

“Come sit with me awhile,” I say quietly to her.

Today, I see something different about Grief. She looks like me…as if I am looking into a strange mirror of sorts. Why haven’t I seen it before, for she has come often enough to have noticed it.

My heart wasn’t ready to sit with Grief face-to-face, heart-to-heart until now.

Grief was brutal in the beginning.

The world seemed so right. A wonderful gathering of family in the middle of July. Even through the horrible heat of Texas, we had a wonderful time.

In the early hours of the next morning, my husband, Steve, suffered a massive heart attack and though every measure was taken to save him, that was not God’s plan for Steve.

I remember being led to his hospital room to say goodbye, led out of his room and out the door to return home alone. Grief did not walk with me then, only held at bay by God’s grace so desperately needed in that moment.

But as family went home, Grief came in with a vengeance.

Unrelenting. It was a physical onslaught of emotions. Sanity was challenged with my world turned upside down. As though in a terrible storm, I could not find my footing or solid ground.

Anyone who has gone through such an emotional loss can understand that our bodies react physically as well to the trauma of that loss.

My vision was affected. Driving down the highway back to work that first day, trees moved slowly by – like we had been thrown into a time warp. There were no longer any distinct colors. It looked as if a strong enemy had scooped it all up and mangled what was normal before into my reality of today.

Grief had come to call.

Grief could not be controlled. There was no reasoning with her.

Kind words were being spoken to me from family and friends — things I knew and had known. “God’s grace is sufficient.” “He will carry you through this, Kathy.”

BUT GRIEF WAS SO LOUD.

I sat alone every night, finding myself sitting in the dark many times. There would be no other sound in the silence…except there was no quiet. Only the roar of Grief.

But today, I take her hand in mine, and I welcome her in.

As I let her speak to my heart, I understand that Grief knows my pain. This thought confuses me at first, until I hear her say, “I miss his voice.” And the tears come—hers — and mine.

I feel Grief’s pain, for it is mine. She is just like me. She is ‘ME’.

Grief can share my broken heart with me, and she does. But one thing Grief cannot do is help me through the pain she brings when she visits. That is my job to do.

Soon, Grief begins to change – evolves – shifts.

And another voice can be heard over Grief’s.

It is the voice of the Holy Spirit.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”
John 3:16 (KJV)

EVERLASTING LIFE!

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.”
Psalm 116:15 (KJV)

I wonder sometimes why things have to be the way they are. It is a question I would direct to God. But in the next moment, I would thank the Lord with all my heart for the life, the story He has given me.

And I would thank Him that when the story changed, He did not rip out the pages He thought might make me sad. God knows me well enough to know that I would cherish the chapters, all of them actually, for they are mine personally and can truly be credited with Grief who attached herself to them.

We have heard it said, “Without love, there would be no grief at all.”

In a strange way, Grief has become a close companion that I would actually grieve for if she were to disappear. Grief keeps Steve close — not in a sad way all the time — just in a ‘close your eyes and let the memories flood in’ kind of way.

Those memories make my heart race. I smile and feel like the sun has broken through the clouds to warm me up.

One day, I will not sit alongside Grief any longer.

She will release her grip on me. I may actually embrace her one last time and thank her. For Grief became my closest companion and the ever-present proof of my life shared with the greatest love and friend I ever had.

I have realized that Grief has never been my enemy. She just has to be reminded at times that God comforts the hearts of those who mourn, and His grace is ALWAYS sufficient — and one day, we will be with Him for eternity.

“I thank you, Grief, for sitting with me and never letting me forget him. He was always just way too important to me for that.”

“She was no longer wrestling with the grief

but could sit down with It as a lasting companion

and make it a sharer in her thoughts.”

George Eliot

Heavenly Father, as we hide Your Word in our hearts, we can remind Grief of our Hope in You until one day, we will lay Grief down at Your feet — for eternity. Amen