My Grief Letter

Well, he's gone. We were there with him at the end of all things, but that doesn't change the fact that he's gone.

My heart is broken. Simply aching with grief.

I know, I KNOW that he is heaven with Jesus. I know that he is healed. I know that he is whole and happy. I know God has a plan. I KNOW!

But what people don't seem to comprehend is that he. is. gone. He's not here anymore. He can't read his paper every morning and do his Sudoku. He's not here to cut out interesting and well-timed articles and the leave them on the corner of the kitchen table for me. He's not here to share a tidbit of wisdom about vikings or the civil rights movement or the scripture that says not to get tattoos. He's not here. He can't argue with me or turn his cheek up for me to kiss or tell me that I'm doing a good job. He's not here. And my heart is broken.

So, when someone tries to comfort me by telling me about Bill's present reality, they miss the point. I'm not grieving on Bill's behalf; I grieve for me. For my husband and my children and my wonderful mom-in-law and my brother-in-law. I grieve for all the people who knew him and will feel his loss.

I don't know how to accept the absence of his presence.

So...

Tell me you love me. Or that you loved him (if you knew him). Tell me you're sad for me or that you wish you could make it better. Or just hug me.

But don't tell me things that mistake my grief for unbelief. Don't tell me that he wouldn't want me to cry or that he's in a better place. Don't tell me how happy he is... in this moment, my heart is too tender and too raw.

 



I love you guys. I know people love with cakes, pies, meat trays and croissants. I eat them and am grateful. I know you hurt with us. I feel your prayers. And I am so, so, so thankful.

This season will pass. God will bring healing and my heart will not be so raw. God is very good that way. His mercy is new every morning.