The morning began like any other. A shower, a bagel, a cup of tea. Death was near. I just didn’t know it. . .yet.
“Time to get up, Sweetie,” I told Laura. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Do you want to wear your purple sweater to preschool? It’s very cold outside.”
“OK, Mommy. Could I have toast for breakfast?”
“Sure.” I padded to the kitchen and grabbed the Butternut.
Steve called from the bathroom. “We need more shaving cream.”
Then the phone rang. A phone call now? Strange.
No one calls this early.
I answered and heard a woman’s voice, all business. Her words made no sense. My mom? Dead? Looks like a heart attack? “Is this some kind of sick joke?” I blurted.
The woman repeated the horrible words I didn’t want to believe. I dropped the phone and fell to my knees. Tears rushed like a stream.
Fast forward two weeks.
Life seemed normal again after the funeral. I was back at work. Steve too. Laura asked fewer questions about Grandma Carol. But life was crazy on the inside. Crazy-bad. I knew I was grieving. I just never knew it could be this bad. I sped from denial to anger and flat-out asked God, “Why did you kill my best friend? Didn’t you know I needed her?”
You may think my questions were irreverent.
Maybe they were.
I don’t know.
I only knew that I hurt deeply and that my God is sovereign. He picked the hour of her death. He was responsible. I didn’t like him very much right then.
Fast forward a few months.
It was Mother’s Day and tough to be in church. The ushers handed out roses. I gave mine to Laura. Sadness covered me like a wet, wool coat. Beyond uncomfortable. I wanted out. My days were dark. My nights darker.
Fast forward a few more months.
I visited my mom’s gravesite and traced the words on the polished stoned with my finger, slowly: Carol Gale Kuper ~ November 7, 1931 – January 10, 1994 ~ Through Death Into Life. And I cried. Again. Yet something was different. I was different.
You see, on this day, as I touched the stone, I made the decision to hope, to live again. I no longer allowed sadness and anger to rule my thoughts and feelings. I put them in the safe hands of God, the same God whom I accused of killing my mom, my best friend. He didn’t kill her, he called her home to heaven. He’s not always likeable.
But he loves. . .
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son,
that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16)
Death is a terrible thing. It hurts.
Has death come near to you? Whether you’ve lost a mom, a baby or someone dear to you, please, please be kind to yourself. It’s OK to grieve. Open up to a caring person when you feel the need to talk. Listen to music that soothes your soul. Look at photos. Remember happy times. Remember sad times. Talk to God about deep things.
When meaningful dates approach — like Thanksgiving, which is why I posted this today; we always shared Thanksgiving at my mom’s — expect your emotions to fly any which way. You may be sad for no apparent reason, or you may be quick to yell. Don’t be hard on yourself.
God understands.
I’d like to share a couple of resources with you. If you know someone who’s greiving pass them on. Just hit the forward or email button to send your friend this post.
Two books:
A Friend in the Storm by Cheryl Ricker. This gift book warms the heart with poetry, scripture and quotes.
God’s Healing for Life’s Losses, How to Find Hope When You’re Hurting by Bob Kellemen. Like me he’s a biblical counselor as well as a professor, pastor, and a licensed professional counselor. This book tenderly walks the reader through the grieving.
If you’d like personal help, I want to let you know I offer biblical counseling to women. Check out the counseling page at my website or send me an email. My email addy is Lucy@LucyAnnMoll.com.
I lost my mom at a very young age, and it took me years to overcome it. I still miss her, and the holidays are the hardest, but I believe with my whole being that she is in a better place. I am a counselor like you, and I would like to share this post with some of my clients. Thank you for a poignant post. Valerie
Valerie,
By all means share it with folks who are grieving. We need to know we’re not alone and grief is normal.
Blessings, Lucy
Lucy –
Your articles always strike a chord with me. My father passed in 1994 also and the the next five to ten years I grieved mightily….mostly by myself as my church family slowly became very impatient with this member who just couldn’t let their loved one go. Except for one wise Sister in Christ (who has also gone home now), did I find compassion, comfort and strength in my grieving journey. These are the things I learned:
1. There is no time limit on grief or the the stages of grief. Any one who tells you otherwise, ignore, especially if they have no patience with your grief journey. God understands…He will be patient.
2. It is okay to be angry with God for taking your loved one. He will reveal to you in His time that that loved one was preparing a way for the unconditional LOVE of the Jesus…God Almighty. God understands the anger…it is a part of the growing and refining of the Spirit.
3. He also knows and understands your need for that loved one and their presence…He will bring moments of comfort, strength and joy…even peace through a sweet scent in the air, a rainbow in the sky, a favorite quote or a joke that would make that person laugh….God doesn’t want you to be sad or unhappy…He unconditionally loves you, wants you to prosper.
He even might lead you to the balcony of heaven, where your loved one sits basking in the Son-light…at peace at being in the Love and Light of the Lord. I have seen this balcony…God took me there in a dream one night in 2004…when I woke I never wished my father back to earth with me…not “for a million dollars” even for a second. I saw my fathers face…the joy and peace he was in now. Only a very selfish daughter would wish him away from his heart’s desire…to live in paradise with his Savior! It was time to celebrate and be grateful for what God had given my father for being a good and faithful servant and what He gives me daily.
Thank you for your article. God Bless!
Amy,
Well said. After my mom died, people close to me got impatient too. I began to remind loved ones that if I act surly or sad or just start crying, it’s because I’m remembering my mom and how much I love her. Please give me grace.
Blessings, Lucy
Appreciate you sharing your story.
I lost my mum on Christmas day 9 years ago. The strangest things remind me of her and there are times when I’m cross she died because I want to share something with her and can’t.
The worst event was last year when my son got married. I didn’t have one family member at the wedding apart from my husband and other children. My mum was the glue that held the rest of us together.
Bob,
Thanks for the “Best of the Best on the Christian Net” recognition. I’d honored and humbled.
Blessings to you,
Lucy
Lynne,
Even though my mom had her problems — each of us do — she held our family of four together. She had a special connection to my brother. I don’t have this. I love him bunches but I rarely talk to him or see him.
It’s a loss for me and my kids. He has his own hurts, including a very awful incident when he was a young teen. This is the place for those details. I’ll keep praying for you, Lynne. 🙂
Blessings, Lucy
Beautiful post, Lucy! I felt every bit of death’s sting as I read your words. While Christ’s death and resurrection defeated it, death does sting those left behind until the day we join those loved ones in heaven. I have lost both father and mother, as well as a daughter and many other loved ones and dear friends. I’ve been to four funerals this year alone! Death does sting, and grief is sneaky. And it is OK to feel those losses. I was 37 when my mom died last year, and yes, I still cry when I miss my mommy. 🙂
So much loss, Jodi! My heart aches for you. You are so right. . .it is OK to feel the loss. People who don’t allow themselves to grieve end up showing the pain in other ways that may not make sense at the time, like an angry word out of proportion to the situation, even deep sadness that can turn into depression.