Posted on August 8, 2016
Huddled around Hope
My dad has been gone for 5 years. His battle lasted almost 3 years. So we have grieved for 8 years. Our grief has been extreme and light hearted. Constant and intermittent.
Today we are all wearing black and spending the day gathering with lifelong friends to celebrate the life and legacy of an incredible man. I look forward to hearing stories of redemption and faith found because of a life well lived and a Savior well represented.
My friend lost her husband. It was sudden.
I can’t imagine her heartache or grief. I won’t pretend to understand her loss.
That’s the thing about grief. It’s all yours, not someone else’s. It can’t be shared or fully understood. Even if you have lost the same family member, you’ve not lost that specific family member. No death is ever the same. No loss is ever the same. No heartache is ever the same.
When you’re the one that loses, the words of others don’t fill the hole you feel. There are a lot of words thrown at you. So, when my friend was the one losing, I didn’t send her words. I’m waiting. She’s got enough words she’s hearing and reading and saying right now. She doesn’t need anymore. She will in a few weeks. And that’s when the words can help.
Our family huddles up in the wake of others’ grief. We know. We feel. We pause together and take deep breaths. We remember and every new loss opens our gently sealed hurts just a little bit. We laugh and find great joy in the stories of Toot Toot Tommy.
Grief is hard. And weird. And it’s really not my favorite. Though we miss my larger than life daddy, we celebrate his life and have peace with where he is and where it has brought us.