A Year of Grief
I wrote this in 2017- exactly one year after my sister passed away. It’s now the 9th anniversary of her passing and I’m feeling the need to share and give an update.
One year ago today, I changed my profile picture to honor the person who has been on my mind more than anyone else. I’ve always been fairly good with words, but I can’t fully explain the constant emotional turmoil of this past year as I’ve tried to adjust to life without my only sister.
She lost her fight with COPD one year ago, and I’ll be honest—it has been a kind of hell I never imagined. I hadn’t planned for how I would handle this, because I couldn’t bring myself to go there in my mind until I was forced to. To have her my entire life, and then to be expected to continue mine—especially at my age—without her is something I still haven’t figured out how to navigate.
We were so very different, but we loved each other deeply. I know that love was real, and I will never be convinced otherwise. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t want to pick up the phone to call or text her. I still instinctively pause when I pass her subdivision, desperately wanting to stop by.
I still don’t know how I’m supposed to act, what I’m supposed to say, or how to manage certain situations. Most of the time, I just go through the moments and motions until God delivers me to the other side of the tears and reassures me that He is—and always will be—beside me. There is so much I don’t know, don’t understand, and truly don’t get about losing her so young. And I don’t expect I ever will.
But here’s what I have discovered in the past year:
God does deliver us through the unthinkable. He gives us opportunities to grow and to lean into Him more and more. Through Him, we find the strength to do things we never thought possible. And He never leaves us.
My mother is one of the strongest and most loyal people I’ve ever met. She loves with her whole heart and never gives up on her family. Her love for my sister, for me, and for our families is beyond what words can capture.
I married the most amazing man in the world. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for me or my family. Even when he doesn’t know exactly what I need, he tries to give me everything he can. I’m so incredibly blessed to have him.
I have a handful of true friends who have gone above and beyond—showing up when I didn’t even know how to ask for help.
God’s perfect timing placed me in a new job and back into a career I truly needed during this season of my life.
Some friends I thought had abandoned me during my darkest hour weren’t really abandoning me at all—they simply didn’t understand what I needed. Unless you’ve been through this kind of loss, you just can’t fully know. We’re all doing the best we can.
So even though I’m not where I want to be, I can see the progress that has been made. There’s still sadness. There are still difficult days. Life will never be the same without her—but I am thankful for the relationships that carry me through, starting with the one I have with Jesus. And so, I will continue to praise Him in the storm.
I’ll change my profile picture soon—not because I don’t miss her, and not because the grief is behind me, but because I’ve accepted the way things are now. I’ve realized that God has shown me blessings in the middle of this pain. And I’ve realized something else: this isn’t about me.
She was sick, and she needed rest. And no matter how much I want to be selfish and wish she were still here, I am grateful that my sister is resting with Jesus—free from pain, truly home.
Don’t worry about sounding professional. Sound like you. There are over 1.5 billion websites out there, but your story is what’s going to separate this one from the rest. If you read the words back and don’t hear your own voice in your head, that’s a good sign you still have more work to do.
Be clear, be confident and don’t overthink it. The beauty of your story is that it’s going to continue to evolve and your site can evolve with it. Your goal should be to make it feel right for right now. Later will take care of itself. It always does.