Good Grief

A few days ago, Facebook disrupted my usual morning scroll and instead traded it for a sneak attack of grief.

The photo below, an 8 year old memory, is of my dad holding my oldest when she was 18 months old.

It’s a moment I won’t ever be able to capture with our newest little one.

I am thankful, however, that I snapped some photos of him with my other three at various times.

My dad passed away just over a year and a half ago, after a long battle with cancer. And, it’s grief has implemented an unexpected plan all it’s own.

I encounter my grief in waves. Sometimes it barely touches my toes, and other times crashes over me with an inescapable undertow.

It doesn’t care how busy I am, or if I can mentally handle it’s load.

It can steal my stillness, overtake my busyness, and interrupt my contentment.

But, it’s good. It’s necessary. It’s important.

Its unpredictable nature refines my character.

Its moments of remembrance keep me honest and empathetic.

I lean in.

Soak it up.

And, I grieve.

I grieve that our littlest one, now just over four months old, will never know her Papaw.

But, through acknowledging and displaying my grief, it gives way to shareable opportunities with my girls, and I slowly heal.

It helps them understand that although grief is difficult and emotional, manifests in numerous ways, and can leave you with more questions than answers, it’s okay.

It’s all okay.

Ultimately, I rest in the One who’s bigger than my grief. I have hope and assurance that my dad is with Jesus. No longer in the throes of this sinful world, but instead in the glorious presence of our God.

And that, that is beautiful.

That is good grief.