What I’m Learning About Grief

Grief is a fickle thing. It’s not really linear, is it? Emotions seem to come and go in waves, combined with long spans of feeling absolutely nothing. It’s weird. The “nothing” might be worse than the actual pain.

My heart hurts. My mind feels numb. I want to be alone, but alone is where it hurts the most. I find comfort in community, but I’m overstimulated there.

I feel drawn to simply sit—with my thoughts, with the Lord, with a friend—not saying a word, just trying to feel.

What I feel is confusing. A strange cycle of pain, joy, and guilt.

There’s so much pain in losing someone i’m this close with. It’s hard to express. I never took the time to imagine my life without her, and she was taken so quickly that I still feel the emotional whiplash. I’m sure that will stick around for a while.

I find peace and joy in reminiscing over her beautiful life, and the impact she had on this world. She is dancing and praising in the presence of the Lord for eternity and that alone is a reason to celebrate. I smile.

Then comes a tiny glimmer of normalcy. Because life with her was so fun and filled with joy, it’s just something that I’ve come to expect with her. For a moment I find comfort, but just as I begin to settle into it, reality strikes, landing a massive blow straight to my gut.

That’s when the guilt sinks in.

Guilt for feeling the slightest bit “okay”, even for a brief moment. Guilt for attempting to imagine moving on without her. Guilt over any random little moment in our life together that may have resulted in a disagreement, or annoyance, or taking my time with her for granted. Those moments were few and far between, but somehow they seem to make themselves more prominent in my mind.

And the cycle begins again. Pain. Joy. Guilt. Pain. Joy. Guilt. Pain. Joy. Guilt.

My logical mind knows better than to think this way, but my heart is filled with emotions that seem to fail me.

Mom wouldn’t want this.

She would tell me that purpose can be found here. That God has a plan and a reason for doing things, in his way and in his time.

She would tell me that in my weakness He is strong. That if I feel lost, I can draw closer to him. That I can find true comfort there.

She would tell me that sometimes life sucks, but there will always be brighter days ahead. That I don’t need to give up entirely, I just need a quick break—to go shopping, grab lunch, or go for a walk. Then, she’d drop whatever she was doing to join me.

Grief seems to sabotage our very existence and causes us to question everything. But in this moment I get to choose to rely on what I know to be true.

God is good. He is faithful to provide—comfort, joy, wisdom, strength, and peace that surpasses all understanding.

I have more grieving to do, and more work to do. And maybe soon I’ll do just that. For now I think I’ll just sit, finding the space and the grace to simply be.