When Grief Comes Again
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” — Psalm 23:4
Unexpected. Unwelcome.
That’s how grief enters—again and again.
There is no timetable for loss. No expiration date on longing. No finish line for the ache that settles into the heart when someone we love is no longer here. Grief does not politely announce its arrival. It appears in ordinary moments—a familiar song, the scent of a favorite meal, sunlight catching a memory just right.
Beauty and pain, side by side.
Just when we think we have moved beyond the valley, we find ourselves walking through it once more. But grief is not a place we pass through quickly. It is a journey. And there are no shortcuts.
Over time, I’ve come to see three realms of loss.
First, there is the loss of what was. The cherished routines. The laughter-filled rooms. The simple Sundays that once felt ordinary but now feel sacred. Memories remain—good and precious—but they do not replace presence. And so we miss them.
Then comes the loss of what could have been. This one often hurts more. It carries regret. The “why” questions surface. Why didn’t I stay longer? Why didn’t I say more? Why wasn’t I there? Regret can spiral into self-blame, and even anger toward God. But no amount of replaying the past can rewrite it. We cannot go back. We can only move forward.
Finally, there is the loss of what will never be. The empty seat at weddings. The arms that will never hold new babies. The milestones that will unfold without them beside us. This realm of loss requires something painfully difficult: letting go. Not forgetting—but releasing the life we imagined and entrusting it to God.
My loved one has reached Home. Her pain is finished. Her healing is complete. But I am still here. Still walking. Still healing.
And yet, I serve the same Savior who welcomed her. The One who gathers broken pieces and fashions beauty from them. In quiet ways, He reminds me that I am not alone in the valley.
The tears still fall. But tears cleanse and soften the heart. Grief has changed me. It has deepened my compassion. I see others differently now. I love differently—a softer, gentler love.
After all, I hurt because I loved.
And love—even when marked by loss—is still a gift.
One I will open again and again.