Surviving Grief

  🌄 I Am a Citizen of This Day Healing After Loss – Blog Day 17 "Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick." —Susan Sontag 🧭  The Kingdom I Now Inhabit Susan Sontag's words resonate deeply within me. I know what it means to live in the kingdom of the sick. I've lived with pain that doesn't go away and fatigue that sleep doesn't fix. And now, I live in the kingdom of the grieving. But these kingdoms do not own me. They are where I dwell for now—but not forever. Somehow, even in the hardest places, there is beauty to be found. Even if it's just the love behind a tear, or the strength it takes to keep going one more day. 🛌 Exhaustion, Illness, and the Weight of Grief Today I hit my limit. The physical toll of packing, bending, and climbing the stairs left me aching from head to toe. My SI joint flared. My costochondritis brought chest...

  🕊️ To Fly Away and Be at Rest July 25, 2025 | by Dyan Bertha Fiorentino “My heart is in anguish within me… And I say, ‘O, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest.’” —Psalm 55:4–6 There are moments when the weight of life becomes unbearable. Days when the grief, the stress, and the constant striving feel like they might swallow us whole. In those moments, the idea of flying away and finding rest isn’t just poetic—it’s a longing. A prayer. A desperate plea from a tired heart. Since losing Mark, I’ve been doing all I can to build a life for Bryce and me. I’ve poured myself into my writing, into sharing our story, and into building a faith-based online space where grief and healing can co-exist. Some days I feel hopeful. Other days, like today, I feel stuck—like I’ve been fighting the same uphill battle for far too long.               And yet, Jesus prepared us for these very seasons of suffering: He said, “I have said ...

  🌾 When Kindness Feels Like a Curse (But Isn't) Some Days, It Just Feels Harder Today, I had one of those conversations—the kind that lingers in the soul. My aunt and I were talking about life. About blessings. About luck. And she said something that’s stuck with me: "It really does seem like the kind souls have it harder than the thieves." And I felt that. Deeply. Because the truth is—I’ve never had an easy life. I haven’t had the kind of luck people talk about over coffee or smile about in social media captions. My journey has been one of heartbreak, struggle, starting over, and pushing past the breaking point more times than I can count. Kindness Isn’t a Weakness I try to live kindly. I try to love generously. I try to believe that good wins. But there are days—hard ones—where it feels like  being a good person comes with a cost  that others never seem to pay. People who manipulate, deceive, or take advantage often seem to glide through life, while those of us who fe...

💔 Real Grief Doesn’t Fade – It Deepens with Love "Real grief is not healed by time… If time does anything, it deepens our grief..." —Henri Nouwen, Healing After Loss 🕯️ The Frightening Truth About Grief At first, this idea is terrifying. Grief deepening? Will I ever feel better? But as days pass, I’ve started to understand what Henri Nouwen meant. As time unfolds, so do memories. The more time we have to reflect, the more fully we realize who our loved one truly was to us. Their love—the kind we may have taken for granted while they were alive—becomes clearer, sharper, and yes, sometimes more painful in their absence. 🕳️ The Depth of the Loss It has been 24 days since Mark passed away. I thought Bryce and I were managing. But today, it hit me—we’re drowning. Neither of us is sleeping. I feel like I’m spiraling. Even the computer, my comfort tool, feels like a stranger. I told Bryce today, half-joking, half-serious, “Maybe we should just sell everything and live in ou...

  🏡 When the House No Longer Holds Them "In desperate hope, I go and search for her in all the corners of my house... But infinite is thy mansion, my Lord, and seeking her I have come to thy door." —Rabindranath Tagore 🕯️ My Mother's Presence Lingered After my mother passed, her home felt like hers. Every room whispered of her presence— The kitchen still smelled of her cooking. Her closet still held the scent of her perfume. I thought cleaning out her closet would bring some relief. It didn’t. Her spirit clung to every inch of that house. I wasn’t just letting go of things—I was letting go of her space, her sanctuary. 📦 Letting Go of Mark’s Belongings When Mark died, I handled it differently. I began sorting through his things right away. Bryce helped. Today, he brought Mark’s clothes to Goodwill. It wasn’t easy. But we both knew that clearing space might help us breathe again. 🤍 Why It Felt Different I kept wondering: Why was it harder to leave my mother’s house than...

⏳  Grief Has No Clock: A Reflection on Pain, Patience, and Permission  🕯️ Quote for the Heart "Everyone can master a grief, but he that has it."   —William Shakespeare 💔 There Is No Timeline for Loss Someone once told me it takes seven years to adjust to the loss of someone close. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it takes longer. Maybe it never quite settles at all. There’s no need to apologize if grief is still a significant part of your life— not after months, not even after years. As Martha Whitmore Hickman reminds us in Healing After Loss , every grief has its own timetable. Only the person carrying it knows its true weight. 🧭 Listening to Our Own Needs We are often our own best judges in grief. Sometimes we do need a nudge if we've become too isolated. Sometimes we need a professional when the shadows grow too heavy. But the one thing we never need? Pressure from others to “move on” before we’re ready. Grief is not weakness. Grief is the evidence of deep, hol...

🌅 The Quiet After Goodbye "He could feel a hand on his shoulder. "All right," he said softly. "All right." He stood at his walker. He could sense eyes staring at him. "Goodbye," he said to the coffin. He turned on his walker and began to move away. It was a day of sun, warm, bright, and a soft wind from the west. The earth was green. The sun felt good on his face and hands."  —TERRY KAY  There's a strange silence that follows the funeral — a holy stillness, like creation itself has paused in reverence. The moment feels suspended, sacred, unbearable. And somehow beautiful. 📜 Rituals That Hold Us The rituals help. They give form to the chaos. A service. A reading. A closing prayer. These traditions remind us what to do when we no longer know what to feel. No, rituals don’t heal us. But they hold us until we can begin to heal. And maybe that’s enough. I am learning to be held. Learning to let the simple moments carry me. Sometimes, the s...

 The Anger I Was Ashamed to Feel – And the Love That Never Left "She taught me that grief is a time to be lived through, experienced fully, and that the heavens will not fall if I give voice to my anger against God in such a time.  --Elizabeth Watson ⚓Introduction – Anchoring in Today's Passage  Today's passage from Healing After Loss hit hard.  It gave me permission to feel what I've been burying — anger.  Yes, I'm angry at myself. There was a season in our lives when all Mark and I did was fight. ䷼The Truth – Naming the Guilt and Conflict There was a time I hated him. That feels like a horrible thing to write. But it's the truth. But we were falling apart — not in love, not in sync. We fought constantly while trying to build a life, a business, and somehow hold ourselves together after so many personal losses.  I had just lost my mom, and it felt like the ground beneath me crumbled. I felt misunderstood. Overwhelmed. Lost.  There were mome...

🌧️  Coming Through the Storm — Even When It Hurts "I will use all my wisdom and power to come through this well." Today, that line felt like a whisper from deep inside me. A reminder that even when I feel weak, I am not empty. Even in pain, I still have something left. Grief is tearing at me again. I miss his presence so deeply — it feels like a physical weight. I keep listening, hoping to feel him near. But the silence echoes. And yet, I'm here. Still breathing and still writing. Isaiah 40:29 says, "He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak." That's what I'm leaning on today. The wisdom God has poured into me through love, loss, and faith. The power that lives in my soul, even when I don't feel strong. I don't have to "fix" my grief. I have to live through it. Trusting that even this pain is part of a process. A birthing of something more profound. Something sacred. 💔When the Grief Hits Hard Again Today hurts...

🕊️If You Love Me, Let Me Go Grief, Memory, and the Things That Bring Them Back Today's "Healing After Loss "  began with a powerful line:   "If you love me, let me go."  It reminded me of Olivia Newton-John's heartfelt song  "If You Love Me (Let Me Know),"  a song about love, longing, and the silent pain of feeling unloved. "Before too long, I built my world around you… If you love me, let it be. If you don't, then set me free.” Martha Hickman reflected on how we might be projecting our own needs and desires onto what we believe our loved ones would want. She suggested that it's all conjecture—our pain shaping the narrative of their absence. But I gently disagree. 🐦 Grief Is a Soundtrack, a Scent, a Spark For me, grief is more than reflection. It’s a soundtrack. A scent. A shadow. A frog on a shelf. A birdhouse in the tree. A coffee cup that’s no longer filled. These simple things bring my loved ones back to me. Not physically— ...

🕊️The Unknown Future “The future is not yet ours perhaps it never will be if it comes it may come wholly different from what we have foreseen let us shut our eyes then to that which god hides from us and keeps in reserve in the treasures of his deep counsels let us worship without seeing let us be silent let us abide in peace.”  —Francois De Salignac De La Mothe Fenelon  💭 Drifting into the Unknown Today’s reflection from  Healing After Loss  struck a deep chord in me. It began with this powerful truth: “The future is not yet ours; perhaps it never will be.” That’s a hard thing to accept—especially in grief. I catch myself drifting into the past, holding tight to memories… Then suddenly, I leap ahead, trying to predict a future that feels too empty, too unknown. And I worry over what might still come. I ache for what could’ve been. 🔄 Wasted Energy, Heavy Burdens Reading further, I realized how much energy I’ve spent imagining the worst. As if grief alone weren’t e...