Surviving Grief

  🕊️ 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 ...

  "I Keep Wanting to Tell Them…" 💭 The Moments That Still Belong to Them There are still moments—quiet, unremarkable moments—when I catch myself reaching for my phone or turning my head to speak. It might be something funny I saw. Something beautiful. Something frustrating. Something sacred. And without fail, my first thought is, "I need to tell Mark." Then the ache comes. Healing is not a straight line. It is a circle that returns us, again and again, to the person we miss the most. Even after weeks, months, or years, I find myself longing to share the day's joys and burdens with my lost loved ones. And it does not feel strange. It feels like muscle memory. Because Mark was not just my husband—he was my person. My sounding board. My safe place. My Mom was the person I went to for everything. We spoke on the phone at least three times a day when we didn't live together. When we lived together, there might have been times when we were together too...

  💔 Letting Go Without Losing Him 🕯️ Opening Reflection "The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal, every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open; this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude." —Washington Irving Today's passage stopped me in my tracks. It made me ask myself a difficult question: Am I holding on to grief as a way to hold on to Mark? 🌙 Dreams That Stir the Soul Bryce and I have both had dreams about Mark lately—odd, vivid dreams that leave us wondering when we wake. Are they just the mind’s way of missing someone so deeply? Or is Mark gently reminding us he’s still with us in spirit? 📦 Packing Memories, Not Just Boxes As we prepare to leave this house, every drawer, every closet, every corner echoes with memories. Mark’s presence is everywhere—from the tools he used to the notes he wrote. I keep finding pieces of him, and while I’m g...

🌧️  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...