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Entry #41 from Sara's book ~

Sighs & Goodbyes: Journaling From Grief to Grace

October 26, 2017

My dearest grieving friends,

There is so much I could tell you. There are so many things that I’ve learned. I know that, unfortunately, this is a solitary road and you will often feel like you are walking it alone.

I am writing this to hopefully remind you that no matter what you feel, you are normal. It’s been felt before. It’s been said before and it’s been thought before.

In the beginning you will feel very confused. You will be sad, but the sadness doesn’t yet take hold of your daily life. You are in shock. Some days you will wake up and it will take you a moment to remember what happened. Your entire world just came crashing down; it takes a while for the dust to settle.

You will count the days at first. It’s been four days since I’ve seen her face. It’s been seven days since I’ve heard his voice. Soon, it will be weeks that you count and then months. At some point, you will lose track and when that happens, something else inside you breaks. This is your normal now. Consider it evidence that time really does make you forget. That will hurt. Get used to random things hurting. This doesn’t fade.

You will run into well-meaning people who will, honestly, try to make you feel better with all sorts of well-meaning words. Some things will help, but most often it will just make you want to run away from the situation, hide your face and your feelings from the world. Don’t feel bad about that. You have an open wound, one that needs time to heal. What most people don’t understand is that the looks of pity and the questions about the pain just reopen a wound that you are desperately trying to keep protected. This will get easier.

There also will be people who will tell you that they understand your loss because they lost something, too. I could give you an endless list of what people have related my loss to: a job, a dog, a great-aunt who was 101. Sometimes this will make you angry. Try to remember this one thing: they don’t understand, because no one can. The relationship you had with your loved one was unlike any other relationship you have ever had or will ever have. No one can completely understand your loss.

I can meet someone tomorrow whose daughter was tragically killed in a car accident at 17, and guess what? They can sympathize with me on a level that most cannot. Still, they didn’t lose their Grace Elizabeth, their first born, best friend, with the sweaty nose and heavy feet. I can’t fault anyone for not getting that. Your relationship was unique. So was mine. This will eventually give you comfort.

The five stages of grief are not complete and are not gospel. They are a guideline. It was established for terminally ill patients nearing death, not necessarily a grieving heart. I can say, from experience, you can go through all five stages in a matter of minutes and you can probably add 10 more to the list. Don’t get stuck in what a book tells you to feel. (Not even this one.) Don’t let anyone tell you what your grief walk should look like. Respect the journey. The highs and lows will be unique to you. Let yourself feel them all. Don’t allow yourself to check out. When it overwhelms you, be overwhelmed. It’s healthy and natural.

There will be days when it takes everything inside you to simply get out of bed. This won’t necessarily be in the first months. Studies show that it takes about six months for the initial shock of grief to subside. Some say that the nine month marker is the worst. People will tell you the one year anniversary is terrible and still others will say the second year is the hardest.

When it hits (and it might be multiple times), it will hit hard. It can consume you. There will be nights, if I can be honest, that I hoped with everything in me that I didn’t wake up in the morning. That may seem incredibly selfish, considering what I have to live for. But, when all you want is to wrap your arms around the one you lost, life loses its value and eternity becomes very appealing.

I could write volumes on the things you might feel, of things I have felt. The days that seeing her picture makes me smile or the days that I avoid seeing anything that reminds me of her at all. How good it feels when someone mentions her name or tells me a memory – but the sting that accompanies it every single time. Learning that it’s ok to laugh again. Letting God place particular people in your life, maybe completely unexpected ones, that end up becoming your greatest support. Learning who you are all over again. Staying in comfort zones, where people know you. They know your story, so you can avoid the overwhelming anxiety of talking to someone new and the possibility of them asking any questions that might require you to talk about it. The fear that you will never be the same again. The pain, that slowly fades, but still remains, with every breath, with every sigh and with every memory.

Write down a list of what you know to be true. It can be anything. The first thing on our list: a week after the accident it was cold out. We knew that for sure. Our list went on, though, with other things that we knew were true. God was still on the throne and we still loved Him. We knew that we were surrounded by people who loved us. This will help.

My dear friend, you are not alone. Many have been on this road. I have been on this road. I’ve walked it, I’ve crawled it, I’ve been carried a time or two. Sometimes, still, I just lie down, unable to move forward at all. You are normal. This is necessary, but God is near.

Eyes on Jesus,

Sara Achatz

John 16:33