But on Friday, a friend of mine worded it this way: "How has it been for you?" That's a very different question. He was not looking for the superficial answer; he wanted the emotionally invested, real, un-sugar-coated truth. It got me thinking that maybe sharing my experience with grief could be helpful to others.
I am sure everyone experiences grief differently. These are my experiences. If you have been through the loss of a loved one, you might read this and realize you are nothing like me. Or, you may read this and take comfort in knowing you're not alone in what you've felt. If you haven't had that kind of loss in your life, count yourself blessed. Maybe this will help you know how to encourage, comfort, and pray for those who have.
I don't think you are ever really prepared for someone you love to leave this world. We knew my dad was in poor health. We had even talked about the fact that we needed to be prepared for the possibility of his homegoing. He had been in and out of the hospital several times over the past few years, but he had always come through okay. So when he was recovering well after his second leg amputation, I thought he was through the worst of it. Over the hump. Not long and he would be home again. I just didn't expect it to be his heavenly home.
I went to the hospital with my mom the morning we received the phone call. Our hours there were simply too personal to share. All I will say is that, walking out of his room and closing the door was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Harder than the funeral, harder even than the graveside service.
I think part of that is a personality thing with me. I can often deal with difficult things as long as I can prepare for them. I expected it to be hard, meeting with the funeral home director, putting together picture boards, and of course the entire day of the funeral. I had mentally prepared myself. I had prayed and begged God for strength. Although it hurt so much to say goodbye, God strengthened all of us through those moments.
What surprised me was how difficult the weeks that followed would be. I had doubts and questions about God and heaven that I had never had before in my life. Thoughts whispered to me by the evil one that could only be refuted by crying out to God and allowing Him to reveal Himself to me in a new way. I was really not angry with God or accusing Him of anything. I just wanted so desperately to understand why, and to feel like my dad will still be my dad when I get to heaven. And, here's the thing: I don't believe God was either surprised by my doubts and questions or angry with me for having them. He is bigger than my questions, and He can handle them. He knew the pain I was going through, and He answered gently. (If you'd like, you can read more about that in my previous post, "It's Not Fair.")
It seemed strange to celebrate Christmas without him, especially since he was always so excited for Christmas. It was good to be together as a family, and we did laugh together and enjoy the happiness of the holiday. But even that felt a little bit wrong, and there was a sense of sadness that my dad wasn't with us.
Then, when my grandpa died so soon afterward, it was like going through it all over again. He was in so many of the family photos, and it just seemed like he should be there with us. With my mom. It just didn't feel right at all.
And then there was the "new normal" - when the kids went back to school, we went back to work, and the outpouring of sympathy tapered off. It's funny, at one point I just wanted people to stop talking to me about my dad, because it hurt so much. But when it actually happened, I was struck with the realization that life had gone on for all of them, but for my family it will never be the same. There is an emptiness that is felt anew every time something happens that he would have been a part of, or that I would have called to talk to him about. A Michigan State basketball special came on TV, and I thought, "I wonder if Dad knows this is on." I couldn't even watch the first few games after that. The boys are starting Little League games in a couple weeks, and that will be hard, because Dad loved coming to their games. There's Stefan's piano recital, the boys' birthdays, my niece's high school graduation, Memorial Day Family Camp at Camp Barakel...
I guess one of the biggest struggles I've had is feeling like, if I have the hope of heaven, it shouldn't still be this hard. I sing worship songs with lines like, "Oh, death, where is your sting?" and "This is my Father's world, why should my heart be sad?" and I wonder if I'm wrong for the sadness I still feel. But I really don't think I am. Being a Christ follower doesn't make you immune to the hardships of this world or the natural emotional responses to those hardships. Jesus knew he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead, and still he wept. The truth is, no matter how grateful I am that my dad isn't suffering anymore, and no matter how much I'm looking forward to seeing him again in heaven someday, that doesn't take away the pain of missing him now. I am so thankful for that hope, though. I really don't know how people who don't have that hope ever make it through something like this.
I was always "Daddy's girl." I was so much like him in personality, I felt like he understood me better than anyone. It's hard to lose that. He was such an important part of my life. When other friends who had lost a parent gave me words of encouragement right after my dad passed away, I took great comfort from them. But I didn't really understand that they still grieve, too. I don't think it ever goes away. You just learn to accept it as a part of your life now. And I'm really okay with that. I don't want the sadness to go away completely, because it reminds me how much he meant to me and how much I loved him. I don't ever want to forget that.
I think the experience of grief is a lifetime journey. But God is walking me through, and He has already shown me so much. I have felt His love and seen His goodness in so many ways - sometimes even in the little things you'd think such a big God wouldn't care about. But He does. And I am so grateful that He does! I believe He grieves with us and hold us in His arms when our hearts are breaking, just like my dad used to when I was a little girl and hurt myself.
I came across this a couple weeks ago, and I think it is the perfect way to close this blog. It's a call made by a 13-year-old boy to a radio station. Maybe you've heard it before. I think it's an amazing truth anyone who is grieving should remember.
