When Waves Threaten to Take You Under

This past week has been painful. Facing the first Fourth of July without Charlie was particularly difficult. A day I would have spent with my husband. Perhaps taking a long drive, then barbequing and inviting our children and grandchildren over to eat and hang out. Although I was not alone, I couldn’t escape the waves of loneliness and grief that overwhelmed.

I grew up along the Atlantic coast. From a young age, I loved swimming in the ocean and “riding” the waves. But often, I’d be hit by a large wave I never saw coming. Suddenly, I would be knocked down and scraped along the rough, sandy floor. Then, just as I was attempting to get back up, another wave would crash over me, plunging me beneath the surface.

That’s when the panic took hold. Frantically, I would try to swim to the top, desperate for air. But after being tossed about like a ragdoll I would become disoriented—which way was up? In those moments, terror would set in.

As I walk this road of grief, it can feel very similar. I can be doing pretty well, when out of nowhere a “wave” of grief hits, threatening to drag me under.

I’m not a stranger to grief. Almost thirty years ago, my mother died as a result of being hit by a drunk driver. In the aftermath, I tumbled into a pit of depression so deep that no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t crawl out of it. It was such a dark time in my life—one I never want to repeat.

I thank God that this time I’m in a different place. God has healed me in miraculous ways, and I no longer live with depression or anxiety. That being said, it doesn’t mean those issues don’t come knocking–especially with such a gaping wound.

These days, I’m learning that when the sadness descends, to let the tears flow. It’s part of the healing process. Grief is a mountain I cannot go over, or under or even around—I have to go through it.

More than anything else, the thing that helps me process best is to get my feelings down on paper. Journaling is a wonderful way to detangle my emotions and express the cry of my soul.

Here’s part of a recent entry:

Father God, help me to trust You when this crushing grief and sadness hit. Help me to trust Your wisdom and Your love; to believe that You are with Charlie just as You are with me. You will not allow me to drown in this sorrow. You will use this heartache in ways I cannot begin to imagine.

I praise You, Father God, that You have brought me so far on my healing journey. Still, I cannot deny the crushing loss of not having Charlie with me, the despair that washes over me every time I realize, yet again, that this separation is permanent—at least until we are reunited in heaven.

Thank You that when I turn to You, You fill my heart with a peace that goes beyond anything this world can offer. What You provide is true comfort. True healing. This journey will not be without pain, but it will be real. You will help me get through this. Thank You that Your arms are open wide.

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