My Story of Not Grieving Well

This article is part of our Novembering series dealing with grief, loss, and death.

Louise R. Cryer (Rhodes), 1943-2009

My Mom’s Death

I lost my mom in August 2009 after complications from surgery. We all knew the procedure was risky, but she was expected to make it through. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

I did not take any time to grieve for myself. Arrangements needed to be made and affairs put in order. I performed my mom’s funeral since I was the closest thing to a pastor my family had.

My Realization

Three months later, I had an epiphany. I was not handling my grief in a healthy manner. I wrote this in an email to a friend on November 16, 2009:

I realized something today—I don't think I'm dealing with my mom's death really well. Even in August, I knew that I wasn't handling things well. I was ignoring, denying, pretending that my feelings weren't there.

I thought I was fine for the first couple of months (Sept, Oct). Still, my eyes began to open up to some things going on internally that seemed to point to some messy, unhealthy stuff inside me.

1) I'm feeling numb. One day, I was thinking about my frustrations with youth ministry. Then I heard myself say, "Screw it. I'm sick of it all. I'm just feeling numb." That was a red flag for me because I know that's one of the effects of not dealing with emotions.

2) I'm feeling disconnected from family and friends. I haven't been talking with my family much, nor have I really wanted to. I rarely see friends outside of church.

3) I'm eating A LOT these days.

4) I'm not leaving the house much.

I ended with this sentence:

I'm just now sure what to do about it all.

My Breakthrough

A month later, something happened on a dark December night. I was missing my mom a lot, and the pain was overwhelming.

At that moment, I would have given anything to hear her voice once again. I looked through pictures, watched videos, and even read through old birthday cards. But nothing seemed to help.

And then it happened. I started crying. And I mean CRYING—tears streaming down my face, snot pouring out, gasping for air between breaths. I wasn’t just crying; I was weeping.

It’s like four months of sorrow and pain burst out all at once. I couldn’t stop. I thought about how much she loved and supported me, and the tears just kept coming.

As exhaustion overtook me, I began to sing the chorus of an old Jeremy Camp song, Give Me Jesus.

Give me Jesus
You can have all this world
Just give me Jesus.

I repeated this over and over again and prayed that God would meet me in my sleep. I cried out to God for anything—a feeling, a dream, a sense—some reassurance that He was there with me in my grief.

I fell asleep exhausted, with Jesus’ name on my lips.

Now, I’d love to tell you that I had a dream where I was sitting with Jesus on the beach or that I woke up with an overwhelming sense of peace. But all I woke up with was puffy eyes and a sore throat. Or so I thought.

In the Following Days…

As the day progressed, I began to realize that I felt different. It took me a few days to name what it was. I had a little bit of peace.

I was expecting God to meet me in my pain. But instead, He met me by allowing me to feel my pain. He opened my heart enough for me to feel the full extent of my loss and weep over it.

The tears were a catharsis that nothing else could do. That was God’s gift of grace for me that night. My flood of tears was the beginning of my healing. And I learned an important lesson.

Feeling is healing.

I’ve remembered that lesson ever since. Hopefully, you can remember it too when you need it most.