The Dark Night of the Soul: Navigating Grief

Recently, I was headed to North Topsail Beach with a friend. The sun was shining. A steady breeze was blowing, and there was a chill in the air. Arriving, we drove onto the beach in my pickup. I parked it in line with the other trucks already on the beach. It is usually a joyous occasion when trucks are parked on the beach like this. This was not one of those times. One of my employees and his wife had lost a baby just prior to birth. We were there for the funeral. I was choking back tears watching this husband and wife, so hopeful and expectant just days before, pour the ashes of their born sleeping child into the ocean. Their grief and the grief of their immediate family was palpable. They had embarked on a road you never want to see anyone walk. A journey of grief and heartache. It has been said that grief is a journey, not a destination. The one caveat to this truth is that everyone's journey is different. 

My journey with grief started on October 2, 2011. I was sitting in my easy chair eating leftovers. Homemade chicken pot pie to be exact. It has been 13 years at the time of this writing and I remember that detail very distinctly. I had just returned from church and was by myself. My wife was still at church serving in the AWANA program and my boys were with her. A little after six that evening, I got a call from my sister. She sounded calm on the phone so I wasn't initially alarmed. 

She said, “Brian, mom and dad were involved in a car accident tonight.” 

Thinking it was just a fender bender, I said, “Are they okay?” 

She replied, “No Brian, they didn’t make it.” 

Unthinking, I uttered, “What do you mean they didn’t make it?” 

Her voice breaking, my sister said, “They are gone, Brian.” 

I heard the words, but it was probably 15-20 seconds before their meaning reached my emotions. The room felt like it was spinning. In a matter of seconds, my world turned upside down. Intense grief has a way of paralyzing you. In the midst of it, time seems to slow down to a crawl. Everything seems like a dream. 

I remember telling my sister I needed to go back to church and tell my wife. My sister wisely told me not to get in a vehicle in the state I was in. So instead, I ran out of the front door of my house to my neighbor's house. I blurted out what happened to my friend Tony and started sobbing uncontrollably. Tony just bear hugged me and cried with me. It wasn't long before friends from church started showing up. My wife got home. Brothers from my Bible study arrived. And our church family comforted us as best they could that night.

After that night, I don't remember much about the next few days. I remember crying myself to sleep at night. I remember a stack of money that appeared on my counter from friends paying our expenses back to Tennessee for the funerals. Friends continued to show up to lend help and support. I remember thinking I was living in a bad dream and just praying I would wake up from it. Yet, amidst the fog of overwhelming grief, funeral and travel preparations had to be made. Everything feels like it is moving a thousand miles an hour and standing still at the same time. Your brain struggles to process the simplest of things. Emotions are raw. You literally have to just keep putting one foot in front of the other each day and pushing forward. 

I have snapshots in my mind of various aspects of the funeral. The two caskets at the front of the church. Walking my grandmother up to her daughter lying there. Seeing my dad in his Army uniform. Hearing my sister's friend sing, "In Christ Alone." Following the flag-covered coffin in the hearse on the way to the graveside. The 21-gun salute. The shell casings being pushed into the folds of the flag by the color guard. The flag being handed to me. It all seemed very surreal. In the weeks following the funeral, my memories trail off like an ellipsis... 

The tears eventually stopped flowing and numbness was my companion for awhile. It was quite some time before I started processing emotions again. The hardest part of death to deal with is the finality of it. Easily understood and felt, but not easy to process. Five stages of grief are popularly identified: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The five stages themselves are nonlinear. This means there is no "one size fits all" means of processing through and learning to live with grief. And you do have to learn how to live with grief. My only prayer for this article is that you might find some encouragement on your journey by reading about what I have learned on mine.

Take it one day at a time

The only thing that abates deep grief is time, the prayers of the saints, and the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. For the first few weeks after losing my folks, there were bad days where I spent the majority of the day in tears. Other days were spent being angry or depressed, all of it is part of the grieving process. The emotional pain that comes with deep grief is nearly tangible. Loneliness abounds. Bad days happen, but you get a new day tomorrow.

The pain of great loss never completely goes away but it lessens over time. However, “over time” involves consistently facing one day at a time and dealing regularly with the pain and the loss until it lessens. If you are a person of faith as I am, you lean into your faith consistently. You pray constantly. Sometimes you deal with grief day to day, some days it is moment by moment. 

Don't judge your grief journey against someone else's 

My sister and I processed our parent's death in very different ways. We've discussed at length the differences in how we both handled this tragedy. When grieving, it's common for others to tell you about their journey of grief as a means of trying to comfort or console you. Unfortunately, it is human nature in these times to start comparing yourself to these other folks and judging your progress through the stages of grief by their progress. Don't do it. Again, your journey is your journey. Trying to compare yourself to someone else as you walk through your grief can make matters worse. Your process for dealing with your grief is your process. If you think you are further behind or further ahead of where you "should" be, you are overthinking it. You are right where you are and that's ok. 

Seek help if you need it

The loss of my parents was completely unexpected. One minute they were there, the next minute they were not. There was no warning. No preparing. For months I was terrified every time my family left the house in a vehicle. Was the same thing going to happen to them? I didn't seek out a therapist but often wonder if I should have. My sister did see a Christian counselor and they were incredibly helpful in helping her process through the grief in a healthy way. You don't have to go it alone. If you don't think you are processing the grief well or don't even know how to process your grief, find someone to help you so you can find proper healing.

Lean into the Promises of God

If you are still early on in your grief journey, "lean into the promises of God" might sound like a platitude. You may still be questioning God or angry at God in these early stages. It's ok. He's big enough to handle your emotions and concerns. He still loves you and whether you realize it or not, he hurts for you. Psalm 116:15 says,

The Lord cares deeply when his loved ones die.

Trust in the promises of God and cling to those promises in the dark nights.

• When you feel alone remember:
• "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in Spirit." - Psalm 34:18
• "For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." - Romans 8:38-39
• When you feel paralyzed in your grief remember:
• "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." - Psalm 73:26
• "Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved." - Psalm 55:22
• When you feel hopeless remember:
• I heard a loud shout from the throne, saying, “Look, God’s home is now among his people! He will live with them, and they will be his people. God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” - Revelation 21:3-4

Conclusion 

There is much irony in trying to write a conclusion about an emotion that never concludes. Grief lessens but lingers. I would love to pull a rabbit out of my hat right now, give you the "ta-da!" solution to make your grief go away, and tell you it's going to be ok. But I'm still on my journey. And if I'm being transparent with you, sometimes it just sucks.

After all this time, there are more days now when I can smile, laugh, and reminisce about the memories. But there are other occasions when the pain rises right to the surface in an instant and runs from my eyes. And that too is part of the journey. Periods of suffering that drive me to my Savior. I have to trust in the fact that God is still good. He is still on His throne. He is coming back again. I am going to spend eternity with my folks. And God in his wisdom and omniscience is working all of this out for his good. So, I journey on.