On Grief - Meet My Grief

In 2016, when I was just a few months pregnant with my youngest little love, my Papa did what he’d wanted to do for many years, He met Jesus face-to-face. His joy was our sorrow, but we also chose to celebrate his beautiful life and the life he got to continue to live even after death because he had followed Jesus for many, many years. 

When I hugged him for what I knew would be the final time, grief began to creep into my heart. I hugged his small frame tightly and he hugged me back. I felt his beard tickling my neck, as it had done for years. I felt his white, 100% cotton, Hanes t-shirt under my hands and I breathed in his Papa-scent deeply, willing myself to memorize this moment because I needed to remember it for a lifetime. ​

A little over two years later, I said goodbye to two foster sons who had stolen my heart. For almost four months I had been a mama to five little humans, all of them were three and younger. I was tired from loving and caring for all five of them, and I was tired from watching my marriage unravel before my very eyes.

On what I knew would be my final day with these precious toddler boys, I stole away with them and my mom to enjoy some final memories and capture it on camera. I kissed their squishy cheeks and held their chubby hands. As the oldest of the two whispered, “I love you forever” in my ear, I nearly breathed in those words, imprinting them forever in my memory. These boys were so little, they would most likely forget me. But I would not forget them, and my life had forever been changed by the love I have for them.

And grief came knocking. I buckled them up in their case worker’s car, and kissed them goodbye. Then they left, not even knowing that they took a piece of my heart with them.

Just two months later I sat in Marla’s office and breathed in sharply when I heard her say, “You need to ask the Lord if He has released you of the covenant you entered into when you got married.” She reminded me that my husband broke his part of the covenant long ago. I took her words with me to my next therapy appointment where I heard the Lord speak clearly to me that He had, indeed, released me of that covenant. As I drove home, I told God I was ready for the battle and that I was willing to fight for my marriage. Gently and tenderly He responded, reminding me that I had already been fighting for four years and it was ok to be done now.

That grief shook me to my core as I watched every childhood dream and fantasy, every teenage idea and belief, every longing and desire turn and leave on its heels, as if it never even meant to stay in the first place. I said goodbye to several dear friends, my house, my car, and the false reality I had created for myself to live in for those four years.

Five months after that, I stood in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit waiting room with my arms wrapped around by brother and my parents. We stood huddled together, holding tightly while our pastors sat in chairs behind us. The rain poured in the blackness of the night and I began singing.

My mom joined in and we sang, and waited, and prayed while they stabilized my sister just beyond a few sets of double doors. Then the waiting game began. After attempting to commit suicide, my sweet 16 year old sister had gone a long time without oxygen to her brain, and we had to see how her brain would respond to the injury that comes when the brain is deprived of essential oxygen. The first 72 hours are critical for a brain injury. After those 72 hours, and hundreds of people visiting the hospital (we were never alone), and many family members driving all night and day to be by our side, and thousands and thousands of prayers whispered, sang, cried, and shouted by thousands and thousands of people… we said goodbye to our precious Krissie.

As we waited to find the perfect recipients for her organs, I stood in her room with my therapist, who had been her therapist, too, and heard him tell me to write down all of the things I’m going to miss about her and all of the dreams I had that won’t be. This was supposed to help me grasp the extent of my grief a little more fully.

Every single day for many months I woke up and the first thought on my mind was, “She’s actually gone. She is really, really gone.” The lump would form in my throat and the pit would find its usual place in my stomach.

Grief.

I’ve met it.

And maybe you have, too. Maybe you’re grieving a life that hasn’t turned out the way you wanted it to. Maybe you’re grieving a lost friend or family member, an unborn baby or a baby that hasn’t been formed yet. Maybe you’re grieving a broken dream, a broken friendship, a broken heart. Maybe you’re grieving a diagnosis - yours or someone else’s. Or maybe you haven’t experienced a huge loss… yet. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but loss and grieving that loss will come. It is a part of the broken and fallen world we live in. It is inevitable.

But the beauty is, we can always grieve with hope.