A couple of years ago I wrote a post titled “What I Write About.” My impetus for this blog was the loss of my younger daughter Rachel in April of 2017. My initial writing was mostly just pouring out the emotions that were going to break me as a person if I didn’t find some healthy outlet for them. I didn’t necessarily intend to publish them; pounding on the keyboard was cathartic. After a while I was able to express, and edit, my thoughts in a way that I wasn’t embarrassed to share and I got enough positive feedback that I decided my words might even help a few people who had experienced loss. (I still don’t always edit run-on sentences.)
I’ve made plenty of mistakes and gone through some scary and sad times in my 66 years. Losing a child has been the hardest loss, by far. I would not wish it on anyone. Still, I recognize that others have been through devastating experiences. And I like to think that the hope and faith I have found in working through my grief can help others, even if your grief and loss are not the same as mine.
The loss of any loved one is hard. Regardless of your age, your relationship to the person you’re grieving, how many other deaths you have experienced . . . it’s hard. We don’t get inured to death. Each human being is unique. So, every loss is unique. Comparing losses offers no comfort:
- “At least your mom lived to be 94; mine was only 63 when she died.” Is grief a competition?
- “At least you have (or can have) other children.” One child does not replace another.
- “She was just a friend; you weren’t related.” Does relationship define love?
Heartbreaking, life-altering losses aren’t limited to deaths. A serious mental or physical illness, a life-changing disability, a loss of a home or livelihood, a divorce – any of these things can tear your world apart.
Unfortunately, not everyone will recognize or acknowledge the depth of your loss. They might be put off by your raw emotions, your anger, your fears, your embarrassment. They might think you are overreacting or over-sharing. They might unfriend you or just stop commenting. Grief is uncomfortable. And not just for the onlooker. I don’t plan to dissolve into a sobbing, runny-nosed mess in public, but I have on more than one occasion.
If you are grieving from a loss of any kind, please don’t think you have to hide it. But also know that some people won’t understand it. It helps to seek out others who have been through what you are experiencing. There are support outlets (both in person and online) for almost every issue you can name. Not all of them will be helpful to you personally, so don’t give up if you need to join and leave a few until you feel comfortable. Also don’t shy away from professional help.
Most of all, don’t give up on God. It’s easy to believe in God when things are going well. It’s not hard at all to give Him thanks and praise for the good things in your life. To wear a t-shirt or bracelet that says “BLESSED” or “CHILD OF GOD” when your family is intact and healthy.
The times when I’ve needed Him most are when I thought He had abandoned me. When my prayers seemed unanswered. Or when I didn’t pray at all. Because what was the point? I didn’t willingly get down on my knees, but when grief knocked me to my knees, sometimes I would say “well, God I really don’t want to talk to you, but since I’m here, I’ll give it a shot.”
And I slowly realized that He did hear me and He did care. And He answered me. Not always with what I wanted to hear. Because what I was asking for was selfish or bad for me or just not realistic in this life. Much like things I asked my parents for as a willful but ignorant child. God (and my parents) knew what’s best for me.
If you are hurting and feel like no one understands, maybe you’re talking to the wrong people. Or maybe you need someone greater than people. Healing from a deep wound, whether physical, psychological, or spiritual takes time.
Please don’t give up.
Laura
A Light for My Path 
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