Lois Flowers

During the first session of a new grief support group, the leader asked us to hold our index fingers out in front of us so we could see our fingerprints. He was emphasizing the fact that, just as every fingerprint is unique, so is each person’s journey through grief.

I didn’t have my reading glasses with me that night, so I actually couldn’t see my own fingerprint right in front of me.

Oh, the Irony

This ironic twist didn’t negate the truth of what the leader was saying, of course. But it did add another layer to his illustration—one that I’ve pondered quite a bit since then.

When grief is raw and fresh, for however long that lasts, it’s hard to see the forest for the trees.

Whether it’s exhaustion, sadness, anger, a lack of motivation or a combination of these and other factors, deep loss can make it tough to put one foot in front of the other, let alone have hope that better days could ever be ahead.

We might hear or read words like, “This too shall pass,” or “You won’t always feel this way.” But even if we understand intellectually that these thoughts are probably true, they might not take root in the soil of our sorrowful hearts.

Wisdom from the Trenches

It is possible, however, that hard-fought wisdom about grief from friends or trusted experts can serve as a lifeline or a light at the end of the tunnel for us as we work our way through our sadness.

Just as I knew my fingerprint was there even though I couldn’t see it, we can hold on to certain things about grieving that we haven’t experienced yet because people we trust have told us they are true, helpful or simply worth remembering.

For example, soon after my mom died, I received a sympathy card from a good friend who had lost both of her parents. In a sweet personal note, she encouraged me to give myself grace as I grieved.

Machine Mode

At that point, I was still in machine mode—trying to wrap my head around my mom’s death while also managing care for my dad as he rapidly declined. I didn’t really understand what she was talking about. Later, though—after both my parents were gone and all the regrets and what-ifs were keeping me up at night on a regular basis—her words came back to me with all the comfort she had intended.

From another friend’s journey, I learned (and later experienced myself) that grief and joy can co-exist, and that it will likely always be this way until we cross over to heaven’s shore.

When the Grief Softens

Then there was a comment the facilitator of my GriefShare group made that lodged itself in my soul like the promise of spring. “When the grief softens,” she said, “the memories grow warmer.”

It’s true, what she said. The sadness might never go away completely. But now when I think of my parents, I’m more inclined to be thankful for all the years we had together and the influence they had on my life. The grief has softened, and the warm memories are a blessing.

No Rush to “Get Over It”

Finally, at some point after my mom died—maybe a month, maybe a year, I can’t remember—I read an Instagram caption that said something like, “My mom’s been gone for 20 years and I still think about her every day.”

I don’t know whether or not this will be the case for me. But reading those words helped me understand that I probably had a long road of sadness ahead of me. That I was under no obligation to “get over” losing my parents on a certain schedule. And that it’s perfectly normal to miss your mom long after she’s gone to heaven.

I don’t know where you find yourself today. I sincerely hope your holiday season has been full of joy and peace.

The Gift of Grace

But if your heart is reeling from a recent loss, exhausted from a few years of grief or even overwhelmed by a resurgence of sadness from a long-ago loss, I’ll tell you the same thing my friend told me after my mom died: Give yourself grace this Christmas.

There’s no right or wrong way to proceed through the holidays. If you’re sad, be sad. If you experience moments of joy, enjoy them to the fullest. If you feel like crying or taking a walk by yourself or spending the day shopping with your family, by all means, do it.

Above all else, remember this. Just as I couldn’t see my fingerprint but knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was there, the same is true of God.

As we frequently recall this time of year, He is Immanuel, God with us. (Matthew 1:23) And it’s true, even if it doesn’t always feel like it.

♥ Lois

This post is part of a collection called Help for Parent Loss. To read more, please click here.