For the past year, I have had so many people pressing me (it was probably more encouraging, but I felt pushed) to write a blog post on grief. One year ago today, we lost our beloved Emilie in an accident with a horse. Emilie was 17, Josh’s youngest sister, and she was my flower girl when Josh and I got married. She was beautiful in every way, was with us one moment, and then with the Lord the next. It was one of those freak accidents where no one quite sees what happened, and that’s followed by disbelief. She was young. She had her whole life ahead of her. It was only just beginning. Or so we thought.
With our world flipped upside down, we headed back to be with Josh’s family to just be together and to help with whatever we could. It was a tough time, and then the following day, my family had another massive blow; Hilton, a very dear old friend of my family’s passed away. He was my ‘grandpa’ growing up, as both of my grandfathers passed away when I was very young.
So one day, we lost Emilie. We were shattered. The next day, Hilton was also gone. I didn’t know how much more I could break. We were so blessed with love and support from friends and family everywhere, and I am eternally grateful to all of you who were there for us through it all.
A lot of well-meaning people encouraged me to write about things, and to blog about it because that’s often how I process things. But that just wasn’t going to happen. I couldn’t. “Write a post on grief, Julie, you’re good at that kind of thing and you know how it feels.” “You should write something about grief… knowing it firsthand will help you reach out to people…”
Maybe. But I need to take the time to heal my own way, so just stop, please, and thank you. That’s why this is only happening a year later. I really don’t think this is going to be a ‘profound post on grief’; instead it’s more just me processing things, as I go through the messy cycles of grief over and over and over again.
Some of us are dealing okay, but some of us aren’t. I guess that’s the same everywhere, right? Some of us heal faster. Some of us heal slowly and gradually. Some of us begin to heal and then it catches up with us again and we come crashing down. Some of us don’t even know how it happens; one day they’re fine and the next they’re not. We all heal differently.
There’s no knowing how you’ll deal with things until they happen to you. You can’t predict how you’ll feel or how you’ll respond when you lose someone you love. You’ll never know what it’s like until you go through it yourself. You’ll probably imagine it, even romanticise it, and you think you know how you’ll handle things. And then one day it happens and pieces of you fall everywhere… you’re scrambling trying to pick them up and hold yourself together, as well as holding those around you so they don’t fall apart, you’re experiencing feelings and emotions and heartache so heavily… more than you ever have before, and more than you ever could have prepared yourself for.
Honestly, that’s just how it is. Grief is horrible. It’s messy. Painful. Excruciating, even. Terrifying. Confusing. Overwhelming. Frustrating. As a person whose worst fear is losing their loved ones, I can’t even begin to tell you of the pain of it coming true. Nobody can tell you. If you know, you know. But you don’t want to know. You wish you could un-know it so that you don’t have to hurt. You try to hang on to the person and to your memories of and with them, and you’re so afraid you’ll forget what their voice sounds like. You wonder why the price of loving someone has to be so high. Shouldn’t a beautiful thing like love hurt less? Why does loving someone cost so much when you lose them? You might even wish you didn’t love because it hurts so much.
But let me tell you this. It’s so damn worthwhile. You’ve probably heard the old classic saying; “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” (- Alfred Tennyson). There is always a risk of loss. There’s a risk with everything. But as humans created in the image of a loving God, we were created to love and to be loved. Without love, the world would be a hollow and empty place.
So if you’re grieving, let yourself feel everything you need to feel. One person might move on faster than you and heal faster than you, but that doesn’t make either of you unusual. You might be a fast healer, and I so admire you and your strength if you are. I can’t even imagine being able to process feelings so quickly; it’s who I am to feel everything incredibly deeply and to process for a long time, until it’s entirely over. And that can even happen again and again. I was fine for weeks, and then had a total breakdown on Saturday night because I realised to myself, this time last year we had no idea that we had 3 days left with Emilie. My chest physically hurt, and I felt like my heart was shattering all over again; I wept like it had just happened. I did again the next day. Then again the next day. I felt it all at work. At Bible study. At night. Cooking dinner. Driving home. This week I’ve been hurting like it all just happened. I feel unbelievably angry in some moments especially today, whereas in others I just feel sad or numb or hurt. Feelings of being ripped off and angry that our time was cut short are still frequent.
I know these feelings will pass, just as I know they’ll come around again. That’s what happens when you love, and when you lose someone. I am trying to swap out the feelings of anger for feeling thankful that we had so much time with our beautiful girl and with our dear Hilton. It’s not an easy swap to make. It takes a heck of a lot of time.
Go to the graveside if you have to. Be with others or be alone. Take time. Pray. Feel whatever you need to feel. Do whatever you have to do to cope in healthy ways. We all process so differently, each of us is unique, so we need to be patient with one another. I feel like (for me personally, at least) the best way to heal right now is to just keep loving and to let yourself be loved. I desperately need to be shown right now that I’m loved, and just as much I need to reach out and tell my people I love them. Learn someone’s love language(s) and show them they are loved in ways they need to be shown. Be open and honest; ask how you can support someone. Maybe they need something other than some loving. Don’t be afraid to ask. It shows that you care, and it’s that is so important.
This has been a bit of a messy and all over the place sort of post, but honestly, I’m just being real with you. I don’t know what else I can do, and this is also me just trying to process it all over again.
I’m so thankful that we can take refuge in the Almighty God, and rest in knowing that we will see our loved ones again. Without this comfort, I could not continue on. Remember that the Lord is near to those who are brokenhearted. He won’t allow us to suffer more than we can bear… He picks up our pieces and carries us.
Thank you for reading, and allowing me to process and deal with this. It feels like an endless loop, but it is what it is. We keep going.
Bless you heaps, and I pray that if you are hurting right now that you’ll find strength and comfort in the Lord.
Don’t forget to say I love you to the people in your life.
With love,
Julie xo
