Grief Has a Funny Way of Working

Grief is a funny thing.

Losing someone is always hard at first — but when moments pop up, like a Facebook memory from 14 years ago, eight years after my dad passed... I wasn’t ready for how it would hit me.

My eyes watered immediately.

The memory was a photo: my dad, holding my firstborn son for the very first time.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”— Psalm 34:18

My dad — Pops — was far from perfect.He was an alcoholic. He abused drugs. He struggled with my mom, who battled bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, until it got to a point he couldn’t take it anymore.

Then he became a single father.

I was 12 years old when I became "Mom" of the house.

Pops did the best he could.

He worked six days a week to make sure my sister and I always had a roof over our heads and food on the table.

Times were different back then. I don’t even leave my own kids home alone — and they’re 14 and 11.

“Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you.”— Exodus 20:12

Looking back now, after therapy, renewing my faith, and growing up, I see things differently.Pops didn’t live the healthiest life — he survived.

He did well in the automotive industry, and thanks to some lucky real estate timing, he retired early.

He probably should’ve kept working... but instead, he decided to move out of state.

There wasn’t much keeping me where we lived, so I made the trip across the country with him in 2006, while my sister stayed back to start her life.

It was a fresh start for me too — one I’m grateful for today.Divine intervention is always working, even when we don’t realize it.

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”— Proverbs 16:9

Fast forward a few years, and that’s when the picture was taken.

Pops holding my firstborn son for the first time.

I didn’t know then that Pops would only be with us for another six years — and really, only three of those were years he could actively be part of our lives.

He lived long enough to meet my second son, too — something I’ll always be grateful for.

But as I said, Pops didn’t live the healthiest life.

He hid his drinking, his smoking, and his struggles from a lot of people who loved him — but not from me.

Our relationship could have been better.

But I had my own family to take care of.

I’ve forgiven myself for the “what ifs” — because there were so many.

I’ve realized, through my own failures, that no matter how much you love or care for someone, only they can choose to turn to God and change.

Sometimes, it’s simply out of our hands.

“So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.”— Romans 14:12

Pride. Ego. Self-reliance.These are the roots of so much of our pain — I know that firsthand.

I lived it as an avoidant.

I watched my father live it.

And heartbreakingly, I’ve even seen someone I love mirror those same patterns back to me.

“I’m better off alone... I made myself... I don’t need anyone... I’m strong... I can do it without help.”

Words I once convinced myself of — until they destroyed me.

Now I hear those words thrown back at me. I see the doors shut.

Last night, reading The Bondage Breaker by Neil T. Anderson, one line shook me to my core:

“Satan takes advantage of those who will not forgive.”

I broke down.Because I can think of so many times I didn’t forgive.

So many people I love who still refuse to forgive.

And it broke my heart.

Maybe I never fully forgave my dad?

Maybe that’s why this memory struck so deep.

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.”— Ephesians 4:32

Back to Pops.

He only had three healthy years with my boys before suffering a stroke, a broken hip, and the onset of dementia, diabetes, and cirrhosis.

The last few years of his life were spent in a nursing home.He passed away in 2017 — on the 19th, in room 219, at around 8:19 PM.

The number 19 showed up again when my mom passed too.

Signs I can only explain as divine.

“The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”— Job 1:21

The truth is, Pops wasn’t healthy enough to enjoy being a grandparent the way he wanted to.

My boys only have faint memories and a handful of photos to remember him by — and the stories my sister and I share.

Grieving him is complex.

He wasn’t there when I needed him — during my divorce, during my hardest days as a single dad.

But through it all, a new kind of empathy grew in me:A deeper understanding of just how much he did do, even when he couldn't do it all.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.”— Psalm 103:13

Baseball was the only sport Pops and I ever watched together.

And now, my oldest has become a pretty decent ballplayer — one I’ve been lucky enough to coach for the past 10 years.

Next year, God willing, I’ll watch him from the stands as he tries out for the high school team.

And while it saddens me Pops isn't here to watch in person, I know he's always rooting for him from a better place.

This one picture — this one moment frozen in time — made all these memories and emotions come rushing back.

This past year has been filled with grief for me:

• Grieving people who are still alive but no longer part of my life.

• Grieving the loss of my mom.

• Grieving the man I used to be, before this healing journey began.

  
  

But this picture — this picture of Pops holding his grandson — it struck my soul differently.

It reminded me that we are never really ready for the final goodbye.

It reminded me of how little control we have in this life.

It tied back perfectly to my last blog, The Divine Author: Letting go of the Pen — because truly, we are not the ones writing the story.

“For we live by faith, not by sight.”— 2 Corinthians 5:7

I’ve learned a few things about grief, forgiveness, and faith lately:

• Forgiveness shouldn’t wait.

• People usually don’t hurt us intentionally — and even if seems like they do, holding onto it only poisons us, not them.

• Life is too short to harbor hate.

• God commands us to forgive — not for their sake, but for ours.

  
  

We never know the battles others are fighting.

Even the ones who seem fine.

Love them anyway.

Pray for them.Forgive them.

And forgive yourself.

“Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”— Colossians 3:13

Grief has a funny way of showing up.

While the sharp pain dulls with time, the memories — the random moments, the pictures, the smells, the songs — will catch you off guard sometimes.

And if you let them,

they’ll teach you something.

They’ll change your perspective.

They’ll remind you how precious life really is.

Because grief — just like love — never really leaves.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”— Matthew 5:4