Grief is forever changing. Some days I’m fine; other days, grief comes banging at my door. Some birthday anniversaries pass without too much pain (as in last year); other birthdays fill me with loneliness for my daughter who passed away (as in this year). It’s unfair, really, that grief often rears it’s ugly head when we least expect it. Just when things seem to be going fine, grief strikes without a moments notice.
I experienced one such moment yesterday. The twins’ birthday is but one week away, so I know to be on guard. I’ve had a few tender thoughts lately, but for the most part I have been okay—until I spoke on the phone with the office of our new pediatrician.
Having recently moved to Central Texas, I was explaining to the new pediatrician my need to make an appointment for my surviving twin daughter in honor of her 4th birthday. I requested extra time with the doctor to allow for review of my daughter’s extensive medical history as a 14-week premature twin. It was then that the nurse asked if I also needed to make an appointment for my other twin daughter…and I had to tell her, “no.”
It broke my heart. I was reminded of the so many things I do not get to do for or with Alysa. No doctor appointments. No first days of school. No combing her hair or brushing her teeth each night before bed.
It is so easy to focus on all that I have lost. But that leads me no where. I believe it is okay to feel somber for a short time but when I tire of the sadness—and before sorrow overtakes me completely—I make a conscious decision to focus my thoughts on the hope offered to me through my faith in God.
The only place I find sustainable hope for my future, in spite of my daughter’s death, is through my faith in God. He is the only One strong enough to help me overcome my grief. Though faith, I rely on scriptures such as Colossians 3:1-2, which reads, “Set your hearts on things above…set your minds on things above, not earthly things.” Rather than focusing on the grief over my earthly loss, I am reminded to set my heart and mind on things above; on heaven and the promise—though my faith in Christ—of eternal life with my daughter Alysa.
When grief is ever changing, I am so thankful I love and serve a God who is never changing. “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you,” Isaiah 46:4.
