I’m writing this now, while still in the depths of grief, to share what it feels like to lose a child.  By “now,” I mean while the pain is still fresh—before time has dulled the edges, before I can look back and reflect on how grief changes. 

Right now, I am raw and empty, walking through the valley of the shadow of death.  The recent loss of my only daughter feels like my heart has been ripped out of me.  We’ve all heard the words, “You’re never supposed to bury your children.”  I’ve said it myself, never imagining I’d one day have to walk through it.

Please understand, this post is not meant to sound self-pitying or overly sentimental.  At nearly 84 years old, I’ve lived long enough to witness other parents endure the heartbreaking loss of their children.  Many never seem to recover from it.  I pray that Jesus brings comfort to each and every one of them, as I now seek that same comfort for myself and my loved ones.

Grief is a powerful and necessary part of processing loss.  Sharing it can help ease the burden.   Having taught classes on the stages of grief, I believe grieving to be an essential part of the path toward healing.  But right now, I am overwhelmed by emotions so raw that I can barely function.   My mind struggles to accept the reality of this loss.  And yet, my heart feels the weight of it.  I didn’t invite this grief into my life.  It came crashing in, shattering everything I thought I understood about my world.  The ache inside me feels like it will never end, 

Also, grief is unpredictable.  There are times I feel like I can ride the waves of sorrow.  And other times, I feel like I’m drowning in them.  There’s no set timeline to grieve.  There’s no handbook for this journey.  But, knowing that God grieves with me, I’m leaning into His comfort, .  Although the pain of the present is undeniable, but so is the presence of my Savior.

As a Christian, I believe with all my being that my daughter is now safe and home in the arms of a loving Jesus.  Yet, I still cry out to God with questions: “Why, God?”  “Why my daughter?”  “Why did this have to happen?”  I know there are no simple answers, but I long for some sense of understanding and peace.  In the midst of this, the only thing I can hold onto is the promise of His presence.  Psalm 23:4, a verse that has brought me comfort, reminds me: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, He is with me.” While there are no shortcuts through this valley and and it feels dark and endless, I know that it is my God that holds me steady.

Time and Healing: A Different Kind of Grief

We’re told that over time, grief changes.  It doesn’t go away completely—but it transforms.  The sharpness dulls a bit and the ache in the chest becomes more bearable.  And then, there are still moments when it flares back up at you.  Especially when memories are triggered.   But as time passes, something unexpected happens.  The grief begins to share space with memories of joy, gratitude for the time we were given to spend with our loved one.  I have to believe this is true.  I need for this to be true.

But when you’re in the middle of grief, it feels like it will never end.  Although, I’ll never stop missing my daughter, I do have faith, in time the light will break through the darkness.  I have faith, that then, my heart will find ways to remember her with all the love she deserves instead of just sorrow.

While viewing my daughter this morning at the funeral home, and being able to kiss her forehead and say a final goodbye, I experienced a variety of emotions that I’ll not soon forget.  My granddaughter convinced me to come and view her.  I didn’t want to see her like that.  But I went and I was blessed to find some sense of closure.  Kneeling beside my daughter, I spoke of all the people who have contacted me to express their sorrow of her loss.  I told her how loved she was/is.  And of all the people who will dearly miss her.  Of how her being here blessed so many people.

 Her former Home Group leader expressed to me that the group was praying for my daughter and trying to come up with one word that expresses what she brought to the group.  The word they agreed upon was: Joy.   At this moment, I don’t feel much joy but I do believe, that, over time, God’s healing will take place and restore that sense of joy to her daughter, myself and my two sons.

I will never forget my daughter. The healing of grief is about learning to carry both the pain and the memories together.  It is my belief that God will gently mend the broken pieces of my heart while still recognizing the space that will forever belong to my daughter.   I’m confident there will be a peace that comes.  It may not make everything okay, but it will remind me that, in God’s timing, all things will be made new.

I love that you are my daughter.  Sleep well.