Nobody prepares you for what you go through after a loved one dies.
I’ve lost people in my life whom I loved deeply, but I was never there when they took their last breath—until now.
I wasn’t there before to witness the final struggle… to watch as organs shut down… to hear the sounds, see the changes, or feel the weight in the room.
But this time, I was there.
I was there to see the grief on my father’s face and on the faces of my family.
This—this is a different kind of exhaustion. One that’s hard to explain.
It’s not depression. I have peace in knowing where my stepmom is. I know she’s with the Lord. But it’s a kind of bone-deep, soul-worn tiredness. You get up, you go about your day, and then suddenly—without warning—your mind takes you right back to one of those moments. It catches you off guard. It takes your breath away.
And yet, in the midst of it, I feel grateful.
Grateful for this life.
Grateful for the people I love.
Grateful for their presence in my life—for however long the Lord allows me to have them.
I’m allowing these memories to change me, to soften me.
To remind me to love harder.
To say the words more often.
To check in more frequently.
To be present in the now.
And today, I’m honoring how I feel. I’m letting the exhaustion exist without guilt. I’m letting my body rest and recharge.
Because I know—I believe—that joy will come in the morning.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” —Psalm 30:5
The God of my mountain-top moments is the God of my valleys.
And my Jesus – He is good in all things.
To learn more about Heidi and her Kingdom passion, visit Kingdom Come Home
Featured Image by Leopictures from Pixabay
