When Grief Finds You Again

This last couple of weeks has been a tender one.

I found out that a family member is sick, and almost immediately, memories I thought I had made peace with came flooding back.

I found myself remembering my mum’s journey in 2019, before she passed away. The things I saw. The emotions I carried. The moments I thought I had already processed.

And yet, this week, they brought me to tears.

It made me realise something about grief: you can think you have moved through it, only to discover there are still places within you that are tender.

I thought I had grieved my mum. I thought I had dealt with the pain and continued moving forward. And in many ways, I have.

But grief doesn’t always leave in one great departure.

Sometimes it returns quietly, through a memory, a conversation, a diagnosis, a smell, a song, or something that reminds you of what you lost.

And perhaps that doesn’t mean you’re going backwards.

Perhaps it simply means there is another layer that needs to be held gently.

The Lord has been reminding me that grief takes time. There is no neat timeline for it. No point where you suddenly become completely untouched by what happened.

Sometimes healing looks like being able to remember without breaking.

And sometimes healing looks like allowing yourself to cry when the memories come.

Both can be healing.

But something else has been sitting with me this week.

I’ve realised that grief isn’t only about losing people.

You can grieve your life too.

You can grieve relationships that didn’t become what you hoped they would.

You can grieve mistakes you’ve made.

You can grieve seasons you feel you wasted.

You can grieve business decisions, opportunities you didn’t take, doors you wish you had walked through differently.

You can look back and think, Where did the time go? What was I doing? Why didn’t I know better?

And that kind of grief can be incredibly quiet.

Nobody necessarily sees it.

You can still get dressed. Go to work. Laugh. Create. Post on social media. Make plans. Keep living.

Yet somewhere inside, you may still be mourning a version of your life you thought you would have by now.

I’ve been learning that these things deserve to be brought before the Lord too.

Not hidden.

Not rushed.

Not dressed up in spiritual language so that I don’t have to admit that something hurts.

Just brought honestly into His presence.

“Lord, this hurt me.”

“Lord, I regret this.”

“Lord, I thought my life would look different.”

“Lord, I feel like I wasted time.”

“Lord, I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

And perhaps this is part of what it means to lay everything down in the throne room.

Not just our praise.

Not just our victories.

But our disappointments, regrets, memories, questions and grief.

Maybe I’m not going backwards

This week, I’m learning to give myself permission to feel what has surfaced without believing that I’ve somehow failed at healing.

Maybe remembering doesn’t mean I’m going backwards.

Maybe tears don’t mean I’m still broken.

Maybe some places simply need the tenderness of God again.

So I’m allowing myself to slow down.

To remember my mum.

To acknowledge what these last couple of weeks has stirred up.

To grieve what was.

To grieve what wasn’t.

And to trust God with what comes next.

Because the beautiful thing about bringing our grief to Him is that we don’t have to carry it alone.

There is room in the presence of God for every version of our grief.

And perhaps healing isn’t always about forgetting.

Perhaps sometimes it is learning that we can remember, feel, release and continue walking with Him.

One tender place at a time. 🤍