How to Befriend Grief When Death Comes Too Soon
Shortly after our daughter Annie died, our three-year-old Kate said, “I’m so happy Annie is with Jesus. But when He’s finished being with her, she can come home.”
That was many years ago. Next month will mark seventeen years since we held her for the last time. Seventeen! I do my best to picture her getting her license, bouncing in the house after a day at school, fighting with her siblings, and leaving a mess in her room. But she is forever a sweet, squishy baby in my mind with an easy smile and loud giggle, who only seemed to cry when she was separated from her siblings. Though she was only with us for six short months, her life (and death) have shaped me more than anything else.
The emotions facing these anniversary dates are complicated. Should I be sad? Grateful? Weepy? Normal? Here’s what I’ve discovered: There’s no manual. No right or wrong timeline for how I should be feeling. No measure of “normal”—and honestly, it often makes me feel a little out of control. I wonder if you can relate?
Those first few years were so intense with grief. Every day was heavy, focused on getting through each moment and surviving. The sorrow consumed me. But seventeen years later, it’s not like that anymore.
A Friend Called Grief
Grief has become a companion. I can barely imagine my life without it, actually. Along the way, we’ve picked up more grief, more questions, more moments that changed the trajectory of life. In it all, there’s a constant tension between moving forward and remembering.
The capacity of my heart to feel sorrow has certainly increased. But at the same time, I’m finding that joy and gratitude can be experienced more than I ever thought possible. If we allow it, sorrow gives us a fuller, deeper perspective on things we never even knew existed. Even with the sadness, I am filled with gratitude for the richness Annie’s life has brought to mine and the privilege of being her mom.
The scars of losing Annie will always be a part of me. Sometimes the wound gets ripped open again and the suffocating sadness rushes back. But more often, time has given me hope in my sorrow, joy in my grief. It has given me the gift of empathy, to come alongside others who are hurting and say, “Me too.” It has forced me to be okay with unanswered questions, to trust God’s plan is bigger than what I can see.
The Intersection of Ache and Hope
He shot his arrows deep into my heart. The thought of my suffering and hopelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The unfailing love of the Lord never ends! By His mercies we have been kept from complete destruction.
– Lamentations 3:13, 19-22, NLT
I return to those words more often than I can count. They don’t erase the ache—but they remind me the ache and the hope can live in the same breath.
After her husband’s funeral following a long battle with cancer, Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “Now I am setting out into the unknown. It will take me a long while to work through the grief. There are no shortcuts; it has to be gone through.”
Sixteen years later, I’m still working through it. And somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for the grief to end and dared to hope again. My daughter Kate, at three years old, already seemed to know something I’m still learning: that love doesn’t require Annie to come home for it to be real, and that longing and gratitude can both be true at the same time.
If you’re in the middle of your own “going through,” I don’t have a shortcut for you either. But I can tell you the ache doesn’t have to cancel out the thanks. God loves the brokenhearted—I’ve learned that from the inside. Find rest there today.
Meet Sarah Damaska
Sarah Damaska is a Spiritual Director who explores what it looks like to accept God’s invitation to live in the intersection of hope & sorrow. She’s navigating an emptying nest and lives in northern Indiana with her pastor-husband and teenage daughter. Her older two children are off at college, but still thankfully call their Mom often.
Where to find her . . .
- Website
- Podcast
- Grieving Well (a guided journey through low-grade grief)
Begin Within is a series to inspire a year-round lifestyle of gratitude that will impact not only your own life, but the lives of your neighbors as well. Gratitude is a theme we talk about often around here because it ties so closely into other missional living rhythms. Practicing gratitude reminds to keep our hearts soft and expectant and our eyes open. Therefore, the more we embrace gratitude, the easier it becomes to truly see our neighbors and where we can join what God is already doing in our neighborhoods.
If you would like to contribute to Begin Within, you can find the submission guidelines here.
