My dear one,
I wish I could say or do something to make this all go away for you. I know that your heart is breaking–that it shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. And that right now, in the midst of grief, it seems that nothing makes sense anymore. I don’t have any words or tricks for you. I have no magic balm that can make things as they were before.
And grief is such a terrible, ugly monster.
It rears its ugly head at the strangest of times. It is crippling and stifling and healing all at once. Sometimes, grief grabs you at the grocery store when you think you catch a glimpse of your loved one walking past. Or sometimes, it creeps up on you in the darkness of the nighttime and steals away rest and sleep. Sometimes, it breaks you.
Not in the same way, but I hurt for the pain I see you are feeling. I know that you are grieving the past and the present, thinking bittersweetly of the memories you made. Of all you felt and did. But I know, too, that you grieve for the future that was lost. For all the times of “could have” and “would have.” Of all the special moments you will miss and experience without them.
I want you to know that prayers are lifted for you. Not just by me, but by many others. Some you would expect– and some not. I want you to know that all you have to do is ask. There are a dozen loving hands who will reach out and grasp your hand. Who will wash your dishes or bring you food. Who will sit with you and cry with you and remember with you.
And the God you question, the God to whom you cry out and rail at, the God you feel anger, grief, and confusion towards–that God is the only one who can put the pieces of your heart back together. Not in a short moment, but slowly, gradually. A process. As a potter who melts down his pot and painstakingly, carefully spins and shapes and reshapes.
Dear one, I love you. But more importantly, God loves you.
May you feel the comfort and the nearness of His presence in this moment and for all eternity.
Be encouraged by these posts as well!