Eight Months

You can't tell someone how to grieve.

If I've learned anything in the past eight months, it's that.

You can't expect people to understand what you're going through. Heck, you can't even expect yourself to understand what you're going through.

Everyone grieves differently.

Some are sad, others angry. Still others, a combination of the two.

And with each passing month, you keep telling yourself, this month it'll be better. This time, when the 12th comes around, I won't cry. I wont be angry.

But you cannot control grief. You can't put grief in a little box and say, "Here, you stay there. It's not your time to shine yet. Wait till this day and time and place, when I'm ready for you, and then you can come out."

Grief doesn't work that way.

Grief creeps up on us on the worst days, at the worst times, and in the worst places possible, when we least expect it.

On numerous occasions I have thought to myself, If I pray, my grief will go away.

It doesn't. God doesn't work that way.

But just because something is uncomfortable to deal with, doesn't mean it's bad.

There's beauty in discomfort. Discomfort teaches us the reality of our dependency on God.

So does anxiety, anger, or pain. So does grief.

Grief isn't necessarily a bad thing.

When you really think about it, grief can actually be beautiful. That we have loved another person - a dad, a mom, a sister, a brother, a boyfriend, etc. - so much to the point that their absence is seemingly unbearable at times...that, my friends, is beautiful.

And as the quote goes, "it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

***

God is a clever one, isn't He?

Sometimes, the emotions we hate the most are the ones that end up being the most beautiful.

How beautiful it is that we have loved another human being so much, that we have poured so much into that relationship, that we have cared enough to pray for them everyday, whether they are still on this earth with us or not.

And just because they're gone doesn't mean they're no longer with us.

It doesn't mean we can't talk to them and love them, just like we always have. And always will.

It's beautiful, simply beautiful.

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