My Grief Story
“God always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so we can come alongside those in any painful trial.” -2 Corinthians 1:3-5, TPT
I was asked what right I have to speak for grievers. In reply, I listed my education and credentials, explaining that I have studied and applied everything I have learned. However, it is not enough for those who have significantly lost those they valued deeply. To meet the needs of grievers with compassion, the helper must experience loss. So I want to share how I learned grief and earned my place in this space.
I grew up in a midwestern evangelical family with roots in the Holiness movement. My family was very God-centered in everything we did. From a young age, my parents instilled in us the hope of heaven and Christ's return. From this hope, my parents modeled grief expressions of mourning our loss balanced with excitement that our loved ones were now in the "great cloud of witnesses" (New International Bible, 2011/1973; Hebrews 12:1). They did not shelter me from grief; instead they took me along as they lost their grandparents, then parents, then siblings, and friends. Funerals were more like family reunions than quiet affairs, gatherings filled with laughter mixed with tears. The extended family gathered during these times, and the conversation was filled with memories and reestablishing family ties.
As an adult, I was a young church leader and watched others walk through their grief journey. As a grief helper, I saw those people and cared for them. In one church, I had plenty of opportunity as I watched 81 people of all ages and reasons die in eight years. Amid all this experience, I was unprepared for the grief that I would experience in my forties.
In my forties, my girls began leaving for college, getting married, and starting their own families. Each time a child would go, my doctor increased the strength of my antidepressant because of the heaviness of my sorrow. Next, my support system dwindled as my mentor died, and my friendships dissolved under the weight of my emotions. Next, my mother's health began to fail, and our family was told it was Alzheimer's. After quickly declining, she died six months later at 72 years old. We turned to take care of our bereaved father, who died ten months later from Parkinson's, also 72 years old.
After his funeral, I tried to get my feet under me and process all that had happened. Trying to be okay as my first grandchild was born, I wore my mask of "okayness" for my community. I was in church leadership and needed to mask my pain for everyone else's sake. Meanwhile, I was spending more time at home and alone, yet desiring the intimacy of family and friends. Telling myself I should be happy with my beautiful grandson and my happy life. But I was grieving, withdrawing, and alone.
The last straw that broke my mask was the betrayal of my marriage by my girl's father. I was no longer okay, and I was hurt and angry, unmourned grief fueling my emotions. I had no resources to meet the current crisis, so I stood still as he walked away from our 29-year marriage.
Grief, on grief, on grief, withdrawal, social isolation, lack of support, and lack of coping skills. I began to cry and finally grieve and grieve well. I cried for what seemed like years. I mourned with tears, walking on the beach, and creating quilts. I found people to tell my story to over and over in safety until I could no longer hear bitterness, anger, and disappointment when I said it.
Then the Father picked me up, dusted me off, and sent me to school. I completed a master's in Pastoral Care and Counseling and then trained as a Grief Coach. I started a business, Daisy Coaching: For Grief and End of Life, a church-focused coaching practice in Alabama and Online. Now, I serve the grieving community, offering them the comfort the Father gave me in my darkest season. I understand how grief can strip your identity, and grieving well was my road to finding my new self who carries loss as I move forward to learn to sing, create, and relate with others again.