Excerpt
Welcome to the other side of grief.
This thought has been sitting with me because so many people don’t believe there is another side. When grief first hits, it feels impossible to imagine anything beyond sadness. It feels like hopelessness is the only outcome.
But I’ve learned something: grief can get so heavy it blinds me. It tries to silence me. It tries to convince me that healing isn’t real—only coping is.
I remember a time in prayer when my voice felt snatched. I tried to speak and nothing came out. I knew what it was. Grief wanted company. It wanted to accompany depression, oppression, anxiety, and panic. It wanted me stuck in a holding pattern—believing nothing would ever improve.
But I don’t want to just cope. I want to heal.
And healing isn’t always loud. Sometimes the most powerful prayer I can pray is:
“God, help me.”
“God, I need You.”
“God, I can’t do this.”
Reflection
I used to think healing meant one clean moment where I “got over it.” But for me, healing came in waves.
I came out of a deep darkness where I didn’t want to move… then I entered a season where I was still sad, but managing. Then another layer surfaced. Another wave. Another moment that tried to convince me I hadn’t healed at all—when really, I was simply being invited into deeper healing.
And in those waves, God met me.
Music met me.
Prayer met me.
Writing met me.
When I was too heavy to move, music carried me until I could breathe again. When gospel felt too bright for my pain, God still provided a sound that could hold my mood without feeding my destruction. He didn’t shame me for needing gentleness—He gave me what I could actually receive.
And then God did something that still feels like a miracle to me: He let what helped me survive become part of how I celebrated.
I couldn’t have imagined that the very thing that soothed me in the dark would also stand beside me in a moment of accomplishment. But that’s what God does—He reminds me He’s been hearing me since the beginning.
And here’s how I know healing is real:
There was a year when a date that used to trigger panic arrived… and I realized I wasn’t bracing for impact. I wasn’t spiraling. I was at peace. Not because love disappeared, but because grief no longer owned me.
The other side of grief is real.
It’s brighter.
It’s calmer.
It’s not guilt-filled happiness.
It’s peace that honors what I’ve lived through.
I’m not yearning to die. I’m learning how to live.
Prompts
Have I been aiming to cope, or have I been choosing to heal?
What “wave” of grief am I in right now—and what would gentleness look like inside it?
What has God used to carry me when I couldn’t carry myself?
Where have I assumed “this is forever,” when God may be inviting me toward the other side?
Listen
Pray the simplest honest prayer today:
“God, help me.”
Then let one small thing—music, writing, breath, a walk—carry you forward.