Holding Hands with Grief

Grief feels a lot like depression.  It gives heaviness to the chest.  A gray fog settles over the mind until arms and legs no longer want to move.  A flood of memories pushes you down.  

Pushing away from grief will only make it worse, but embracing grief as a friend opens the door to peace.

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted…

Psalm 34:18a

My dad is in hospice care.  He had a stroke eight years ago that took away his ability to walk and to take care of himself.  He changed into a different person through that experience.  His thoughts and words are different, his voice is different.  

Now his body is preparing for his transition out of this world and into the next. Although I am sad to see him go, part of me rejoices that his fight will finally be over.  It’s been a long journey, and much of it has been a prison sentence for him.  

He knows he is going.  We’ve talked about it.  He’s cantankerous, so he makes jokes like, “Am I dead yet?”  Nope, not yet, dad.  

But one day soon, Jesus will come to get my dad and he will walk and run and climb once again… free from his broken body, free from the heaviness and hindrances he always carried in his mind, free from past mistakes and the chains of this world.  

It’s right for that to happen.  And when the Lord decides it’s time, and not one day sooner, this season of life will be over.  It will be strange for him to be gone. 

Holding Hands with Grief

We’ve heard it said that death is a natural part of life, and that is true.  But I’m not ready for death to be a natural part of the lives of my loved ones.  When I think about them passing away, I want to plug my ears and say, “lalalalalala!!!!”  

But in this season with my dad, a surprising thing has happened.  I have made friends with grief, and it has brought me great comfort.  

This opportunity to sit with him and hold his hand… to speak with him about days gone by and all his favorite things… has softened the sadness and replaced it with joy, and even some laughter.  

I have stepped outside when his condition made me cry, so I don’t put that sadness on him.  There are better times to cry, so I walked it off and set it aside so I could enter back into the room. 

But I couldn’t stop the flood of tears when he started singing, “You Are My Sunshine,” his usual song to me since the stroke eight years ago, and then we sang it together. 

Oh my goodness, my heart couldn’t take it.

Anyway, all that to say… Yes, I am sad, but I have found much peace in accepting the inevitable outcome, knowing it is the right next step in my dad’s life, and making the most of what we have right now. 

I have found peace in holding hands with grief, because I know the Father is taking care of my dad.

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

Revelation 21:4