Why You Get To Live After Loss

 It was six years ago this week that I received the most devastating news... an unexpected obituary that I was not prepared to see, a goodbye I was definitely not expecting to have to say. In actuality, I'd been more prepared for an earlier farewell, thanks to the deployment of the US Marine Corps. My dear friend and chosen big brother, Alex, had been sent multiple times overseas and, with each one, prayers were said for his safe return. Somehow, his passing would've almost made more sense had I found out that he died in the line of duty. But a heart attack in his own apartment back in the states, out of the military and going to law school? Nobody saw that coming. Not even his family. 

I cried myself to sleep that night... and the tears didn't stop flowing for about the next fourteen months. I had no idea you could mourn so deeply for so long. Most of us don't. But, as some of you readers who were there at the time will remember, I made the choice early on to document and live out my grief publicly so that somebody else out there would be given permission to lean into their own loss with grace and courage. That maybe, someone would feel less alone knowing that others like me were shedding their own tears and struggling to accept an ending that felt jarring and unfair. 

In these years since, as I've slowly found my way through the grief, I've learned things along the way that I would honestly have never discovered otherwise. While incredibly painful, perhaps the most surprising thing to me was just how profound a teacher bereavement can be. If you decide to welcome the grief instead of fight it, it will show you things about yourself, your life, and even God that have the power to change everything and open your eyes to a new way of looking at life and eternity. This certainly doesn't mean that it's a joy-walk by any means; it's hard, lonely, complicated, and just plain sad. You feel empty and lost in a way. Grief takes you on a journey you never asked to go on but one you know you have no option but to follow. Yet, in the midst, it gives incredible meaning to the smallest things and lets you know that there is a bigger purpose to this one precious life of ours than mere survival... even as surviving is all you feel you can do for awhile. 

A couple of days ago, I was thinking about receiving that news about my Alex six years ago and how different, in a lot of ways, my life is now because of it. And it strangely occurred to me that, while I don't miss the raw emotions that seemed to find me around every corner for a time, I do miss the clarity of thought I had in that time. It was as if I could see the world, myself, others, and God with such lucidity that it brought everything into very clear focus. Even as I struggled to get through those dark days and felt on the verge of tears practically all the time, there was a strange clearness that allowed me to discern the motives of people, the meaning of life, the closeness of God that I would never have experienced otherwise. 

I also miss the intimacy with Jesus that came out of that time. I clung to the comfort of His Word with all I had in that season. Scriptures that spoke of His compassion for the broken, His tears at the tomb of the dead, His love for the hurting, and His sovereignty over pain touched me in ways I'd never felt before. He drew near to me continuously and I could finally understand the power of His name - "Emmanuel" - and the concept of God with us... not just for the good times but also for (and especially in!) the hard ones. I saw a side of Jesus I'd never seen prior, and that experience has stayed with me for all this time later. 

And of course I miss the closeness of friends who sat with me during that season of life. I was hurting so much, and not everyone understood how to draw close to me and be Jesus for me at that time. Most just handed out the typical platitudes, which only made things feel worse. People were just hard to be around because I realized many of us haven't been taught how to grieve well ourselves, let alone help someone else walk through their own. But there were a special few (you know who you are) that came alongside and promised me they'd never leave the room. My tears were welcome there. They would hold my broken pieces gently until I was strong enough to hold them myself. They would enter into the story of my friendship with Alex and want to know more. I have never forgotten that. Life has changed since then and doesn't allow us to spend the time together we did during that season and, if I'm honest, I really long for that again. I love how pain drew in those who wanted to get close to me and who weren't afraid of the grief in all its ugliness. And I learned, by their example, that it's truly impossible to properly heal and work through loss without the presence of trusted ones who will sit in the horrific silence of it all with you and simply say, "I'm sorry." 

These days, the grief isn't as all-consuming anymore. I've almost entered on a new journey where I'm finding out how to remember and honor in an entirely different way. A friend who lost her own brother a short time after I lost Alex recently said to me that it's almost like she has to consciously think about him and keep the memories closer. I could relate a bit. While I still see the photo of Alex in my room and think about that big, beautiful smile... while I often recall memories we made together and long conversations about life... it's not with the frequency and vividness that those first few weeks and months brought. In the beginning, it was all I could think about. Now, there's a life after loss that I'm exploring and it's more like a gentle tap on my shoulder sometimes when the grief makes an appearance. 

I'm taking a lesson from Job in that, after losing everything he had... including his own health and nearly his marriage... when God began to restore back to him his health, wealth, and even another round of children... he most likely never forgot his first set of children that died. God returned a blessing on the other side of his loss, but he made a way to remember, I'm sure. How could you forget them? And I'm seeing that this is how one moves through the phases that grief offers. There comes a time when you treasure the memories but their absence isn't as prevalent as it was shortly after. There comes a time when you start to find new memories, new people, new things - not as a replacement for the one lost but almost like a new chapter that builds on or adds to the story. I reflect on it often: as much as I would give anything for another Alex hug or to hear him crack jokes at me on his long road trips, I also know some things in my life wouldn't have happened if he were still here. God works mysteriously that way. 

And this is the reason I titled this post: Why You Get To Live After Loss. Because you don't have to live again. I mean, you can go through the motions and hold down a job and still physically breathe and eat and sleep while basically doing it all minus meaningful experiences and relationships and even without God. A lot of people do that. But it doesn't have to be that way. You get to live after loss. It's an invitation. It's an opportunity. It's a possibility. But it means you make the choice to open back up to a still-beautiful world that now looks different because your special someone isn't there with you. Yes, you will never be the same. Yes, things have changed. But you also have a say in what happens next. 

You didn't pick to have this wildly interruptive event called grief upend your world. Any kind of loss reveals to you what little control over life you actually have. But it also opens a doorway into a new normal that can still be full of hope, even in the face of the pain and suffering that came with it. In deciding to enter the darkness and take the hand of God through it all, you come to encounter and appreciate the sunrise on the other side in a way that transforms you forever and makes you realize that the death of anyone or anything meaningful to us also makes way for new life to begin. Loss doesn't get to have the final word. You do. And what could take you out can actually make you stronger, braver, bolder, and more grateful if you'll just turn your face into the devastation and trust the One who makes all things beautiful in His time.