Wednesday, July 28, 2010


I have recently been walking a hard road with a friend who has faced a mom's greatest nightmare...losing a child. As I hear people judge her response it does not make me angry, it makes me sad. Most judgmental comments come from people who have never met true sorrow (or her) face to face. And so even though they see themselves meeting it with Grace and perfect faith, I hope they never have to find out what their response would be. I hope I never find out either.

Can we just let her grieve? Grief is ugly. It can't be tamed. You can't tell it when it can come or when it can go. You can't tell it what to do when you get up in the morning. Or tell it to be quiet when all you want to do it go to sleep. You can't tell it to go away when all you want to do is look at photos, smell a shirt or look at a video of his laughter, in peace.
Grief is no respecter of man. And if I could shield my dear friend from it's piercing daggers, for just a minute of relief for her, I would. But I can't. So all I can do is pray.
Pray that the even though the friend I once knew is gone, that this new person would come back stronger. That her faith would be deeper. That her memories would be a gift and not torment her heart. I can sit with her in silence on the phone. I can hope I don't say anything dumb. And one day. When she wakes up one morning, and grief is no longer sitting on her chest....I can laugh with her again.


Jenn said...

I will keep your friend in my thoughts and prayers.

Grief IS ugly. Grief out stays its welcome. It punches you in the gut. It is messy. There is no playbook for the process and everyone is different.

Much love to her.

Anonymous said...

You almost made me cry Ms P.
We will keep her in her prayers.

Moments of Grace said...

I have learned, after losing two brothers, that you never really "get over it". You only learn to live with it. Grief is cold, hard, and cruel. I cannot imagine what your friend is going through, but I know a God who does. I will be keeping your friend in prayer.

In Grace,