A Lament of Grief

For a moment let us acknowledge the true agony of grief.

I can almost still feel the physical pain of the sharp gravel that dug into my skin after falling to my knees the night Eric died. I can still envision my mother’s eyes as I desparately held on to her in hopes that the next breath would display itself in the cold winter air. To this day I can hear the pure brutality of the words “we tried to save him but he’s gone.” I remember the banging sound of the heartbeat in my chest that I would transfer to his in a second. And then there is the time, oh the time— minutes and hours that were lost before I found you that night— the time I wasted when I should have known you were already gone. I shudder at the anguish endured with every person who first heard about Eric or received a phone call. There was great grief that night and in the days to follow. It seemed the tears couldn’t be contained by any place, but maybe the ocean. The frailty was felt in the weakness of the hearts of so many.

Grief has no posture or position. It holds no shape or size. It does not carry a watch to keep time. It is fragile—it is unique. It’s creative, in that it comes and goes at a moment’s notice, but always chooses to rest in the deepest parts of our soul. I often wonder when God created us, He knew that such grief could exist in one human heart. One year ago, I touched the hand of my late husband one last time. I said goodbye knowing he had already gone. That ache still exists today as I write this—the ache of a goodbye. Grief is a part of me, it may always be, but I have come to learn that so is love. The scars that show our battle wounds are not merely to be looked at as a reminder of what we have been through, but also of what God has brought us out of and carried us to. I can clearly recall moments where the Lord’s strength picked me up, where He showed His face and where He led me along.

I believe that grief is a necessary part of the journey towards healing. Though I look in the mirror and wonder if others see me as damaged, I’m reminded of Ephesians 2:10 and that even the damaged parts of me are made new because the One who stitched me together in my mother’s womb is stitching me together again right now. He has not left my side. He is healing my heart. He has taught me that grace and grief are both overwhelming, and that His love outweighs it all.

"For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Chris Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago." -Ephesians 2:10