Loss? It hurts. It hurts deep—and wide. It cuts in ways we can never anticipate. It feels like a renting of the soul—a tearing away of something so vital we often feel empty in response. Saying goodbye to loved ones, leaves us reeling. Dizzy. Absent.
There’s no magic wand, you know? There’s no invocation that will instantly cure us of the ache we now carry. But there is time and patience and hope spread thick on the daily bread of life. There is community and togetherness and fond memories tethering us to our souls. There is acceptance and longing and understanding that to everything there is a season and loss is no exception.
You never asked for it. You never wanted it. And it’s not fair. Believe me, nothing about loss is fair. But this I know, if you don’t move through it—allow the wound of it to evolve into something higher—it can cripple you. It can rob you of your tomorrows today.
It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to not feel okay. It’s okay to not know when or if you’ll ever be okay again. This is not the time for stuffing, denying or ignoring your emotions. This is the time to grow in, dig deep and release. Not the memories of your loved ones—no, never that. They are the manna that falls into our thoughts. The rainbow that twinkles in the storm clouds. The smiles that tickle our insides each time the wind whispers their name.
I want you to release pain, shame, guilt and anger. I want you to release the anchors that are pulling your under. I want you to open the clenched fists in your heart and know that goodness and grace and peace are yours for the taking—unfurl your fingers and take hold.
Lovelies, at a time when so many of us are coping with the loss of loved ones, I offer this prayer…
May comfort, strength and healing be the warm salve you need this morning.
May grace find you and be your compass. May kindness crown you and yield you peace.
May you discover beauty in little things and allow its song to give you new sight.
May the memory of those departed breathe life and light into your heart, reminding you that every new day is a blank canvas—color it at will.
May you find rest, share laughs, cry when you have to and never forget that two shoulders carry so much more than one.
There is safety in the village, friends. Don’t go it alone.