Christians typically give casseroles when someone dies. Books are a close second.

After I lost my son to suicide, friends brought lots of food; more food than my refrigerator could hold. We appreciated their thoughtfulness. The problem was that Bob and I weren’t eating. Food didn’t taste good. Grief numbed our taste buds.

The books we received we were able to savor in the days that followed.  My favorite book arrived at my doorstep, via UPS, Grieving the Loss of Someone You Love by Raymond Mitsch and Lynn Brookside.

The back cover has the following quote:

“Few losses are as painful as the death of someone close. No valley is as vast as grief, no journey as personal and life changing.”

In this short book are daily meditations of encouragement and practical biblical help. It’s a collection of devotionals dealing with 70 issues related to the grief process—ministering to both the head and the heart.

The best thing about this devotional is that it helped me realize that what I was feeling was normal, even though I felt crazy. Renewed hope that my peace of mind would return.

I felt inspired to keep slowly moving forward through what C.S. Lewis called, “the laziness of grief.” The apathy that sets in right about the time when others stop asking how you are doing.

I found comfort in knowing that my enormous fatigue after John’s death was to be expected. During the months and even years that followed, I felt tired all the time.  Routine day to day responsibilities seemed overwhelming.

Concentration was gone, replaced by confusion and forgetfulness. Not remembering what I was doing, where I put something, or even the name of someone I worked with. It was reassuring to realize that I was experiencing grief rather than early dementia.

I recommend this book as one of the first reads after the death of someone close and a great gift to give to a friend in mourning.

I’m grateful for the thoughtful person that sent this to me when I was at the beginning in my journey through grief.

May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to the promise to your servant.  Psalm 119:76

On the morning of Andrew’s death, I was preparing for a birthday party we were to attend.

When I went to wake him, I found his body lifeless. The moment I realized he was gone, I unleashed a guttural scream unlike any my husband had ever heard.

I cried, “No, not yet, no, not yet,” over and over.

Then two thoughts occurred—Andrew is with the King and Psalms 139:16, All the days ordained for you were written in the book before one of them began. I felt like God said to me, “I knew Andrew would die on September 15, 2007, and I that you, Bill, and Matt needed him in your lives for six and half years to become who I want you to be.”

These words brought me comfort in the days, weeks, and months after my son’s passing, especially as we awaited an explanation for Andrew’s death. It would be months before we discovered the cause—an undiagnosed heart condition.

Having a diagnosis did not bring the comfort I had anticipated. It was the memory of the Lord’s words that answered my questions and facilitated my grief journey.

As I consider what else helped me to cope with the grief, I recognize that I found great comfort and strength in Scripture.  After my mom’s death, I learned the importance of scripture memory, daily quiet times, and meditating on God’s word. I found it important to read books on grief and journal with God, pouring out my heart. I continued to go to church and stay connected with fellow believers.

There are many circumstances that cause pain in life. Sometimes we are restricted in our ability to reach out to others. But God is always available, even when we don’t sense Him. His word is true.

I went back to counseling after Andrew’s death, and was finally able to cry in session.

After each loss, I needed something different. With mom’s death, I needed comfort. And with dad’s, I needed peace. But with Andrew’s, the pain was so deep and raw. I needed more than could be said. My soul was pierced. I was experiencing the words of this psalm.

My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. Psalm 63:8

It was heart-wrenchingly difficult, but the Lord ushered me through this time.

Following my son’s death, a friend arranged for me to have breakfast with Dr. H. Norman Wright (an author of several books on grief). As I shared my experience, he asked about the tears. I told him I was still crying. He warmly affirmed letting my tears flow—even if I found myself crying while sipping coffee at a Starbucks.

Even as I review these words, the tears keep coming.

My prayer is that God will continue to heal my pain . . . let me feel what I need to heal.

***For Part 1 of Abbigail’s story: Part One

Guest Blogger: Abbigail Kalaf MS, LPC, BCPCC

Death of a child is considered by many to be the ultimate bereavement. It seems contrary to God’s plan and order that a child would pass before their parents. I think that is why people ask how I coped with the death of my six-year-old son, Andrew, almost seven years ago.

But for my personal journey with grief, and all the lessons that unfolded, the story began with the death of my mother in 1987.

I had just graduated from college and I was preparing for my wedding, there was a traumatic car accident, and my mom was dead. I was devastated and numb with grief.

The only way I knew how to grieve was to press into God and meditate on His word.

I memorized 2 Corinthians 2:2-4 and cried out to the Lord. 

I read my Bible, attended church, and prayed. Even though my quiet times had become sporadic, I found comfort and reassurance in his presence.

It was through the comfort of the Holy Spirit that I began not just to know God, but to see Him. I saw His love for me not only in the ability to get through each day but in the love I received from others. This provided me with insight into the importance of human contact in grief. Keeping in touch with supportive people and avoiding isolation was vital for my healing. Reviewing the many sympathy cards provided another pathway for healing.

The Holy Spirit used many avenues to comfort me and prepare me for additional losses to come.

Five years after my mom’s fatal car accident, I was severely hurt in a car accident that left me with a traumatic brain injury. My recovery was long and arduous, especially for my husband.

Then the year before my oldest son was born, I received another phone call . . . Dad had died. When I gave birth to Matt, I felt as if he was born into grief because he had no grandparents. My hopes for my parents and children to have a relationship would never be realized. This served as a painful reminder of the loss of my parents.

It seemed as if the addition of Andrew helped complete our family. Matt was thrilled to become a big brother. While my two boys were a handful, I loved being a stay-at-home mom and actively participating in their lives, as did my husband.

Although we were acquainted with death and trauma, we were not prepared for the depth of pain that would occurred with the death of our child.

I call on the Lord in my distress, and he answers me.  Psalm 120:1

#lossofachild  #mypersonalgriefjourney #christianmomgriefjourney #complicatedgrief

To Be Continued . . .Part Two

Abbigail Kalaf  MS, LPC, BCPCC

Abbigail is a mental health counselor in Raleigh, North Carolina