Held in the Middle of Grief

I have been thinking a lot lately about things in the past, mostly about the loved ones I have lost. I find myself wondering if they truly knew how much I loved them. Memories come flooding in. Vacations when I was a child. The beautiful places we saw. The fun we had.

When I was younger, my dad could not always go on summer vacations because of work, so my uncle went with us. I remember the time he “bumblebee’d” into the front of a parade and told me to wave at the crowd like I was a queen. I remember flying to Florida to visit my grandparents, riding back with my uncle, and all the crazy things we did.

My uncle was my first big loss. Not long after, my grandfather passed away. I can still see Papa with his white hair, riding roller coasters with us at Busch Gardens. Then my grandmother passed unexpectedly at the age of 100. She was filled with so much spunk. I was not able to make it home for her funeral.

Then came the morning my dad called to tell me my brother had passed away.

That sparked a new set of emotions. We had not spoken in years, and our relationship had always been somewhat rocky. I did make it home for his funeral and was able to see family and friends I had not seen in ages. Grief has a way of reopening rooms in the heart you thought were already closed.

When my mom was put on hospice care, I thought I was ready. I thought of all the things we used to talk about. My mom was always full of information. We could have won many trivia contests together if we had gone on them. I remember the times we would laugh together, laugh so hard we would cry.

Then came the call that my mom was gone.

I was numb. I had so many mixed emotions. I was deeply sad she was gone, but also relieved that the Alzheimer’s that robbed us of her was no more. Then the guilt came. The guilt of not being there. The guilt of feeling relief. The guilt that my sister had to carry the weight of caring for everything while all I had to do was show up.

That guilt has laid heavy on my heart.

The more I try to push it away, the heavier it becomes.

Yet even in that heaviness, I feel the Lord holding me and comforting me. I press on in His comfort through His Word and find peace. Peace that only comes from knowing Him and being fully surrendered to Him in obedience.

He strengthens me and challenges me to go further in my walk with Him. He calls me out of my comfort zone to be all about Him. And He gently reminds me that all the memories of my loved ones that I have lost are filled with love.

His love that lives within me.

If you are carrying your own memories, your own losses, or a quiet weight of guilt or grief, you are not alone. God is not intimidated by your sorrow or disappointed by your mixed emotions. He meets us exactly where we are, not where we think we should be.

His healing love does not demand that we forget or move on. It invites us to bring everything into His presence. The tears, the questions, the regret, the love that still aches. Scripture tells us that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and I have found that to be deeply true. When we allow Him into those tender places, He does not rush us. He holds us.

If you are willing, let this be an invitation. Sit with Him. Open His Word. Speak it out loud if you can. Let His truth settle into your heart and your body. Healing does not come from pushing pain away but from allowing God to meet us in it.

His love is steady. His presence is kind. And even in the midst of loss, He is still restoring what grief has touched.