10 Years Later: thoughts on grief after losing a spouse

Ten years. This month marks 10 years.

It’s a number that feels both impossibly large and heartbreakingly small. Ten years since I lost my first husband—the father of our four children. Ten years since the world shifted in a way I never could have prepared for.

In some ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. In others, like it just happened yesterday. And though grief still sneaks into our lives in unexpected ways, it is a welcomed moment because it reminds us of a life and love shared that was a gift while we had Ryan earth side in our lives.

As a young mom and newly widowed woman, 10 years seemed so far down the road and I wondered if I would make it to two or even five. I didn't think the pain would allow me to get that far down the road. It was crushing, overbearing, exhausting, relentless and most of all I carried it not only for myself but for my children as well. I remember getting out of bed only because my children needed to eat.

People often think grief has a timeline, that after a certain point, you should be “over it.” But grief doesn’t follow a schedule. It changes shape, it softens, but it never truly leaves. It deepens in a way, not quite as sharp as it once was but most definitely deeper as time moves on.

Even now, a decade later, grief finds its way into my days. It sneaks up when a familiar country song on the radio comes on, when a core memory floods my mind, or one of the kids pulls out a picture book. Healing is not linear. You’ve heard it said before but it’s something I wish I knew early on. I thought there was a process to take and I thought that if I followed that, I would be on the other side of grief in just a few years. Surprise! it didn’t work that way. I know that healing isn’t linear now. It’s messy, it doesn’t make sense on the outside at times, and that’s okay. Time doesn’t heal all pain but Jesus does and that’s the beauty that I have found. It doesn’t mean that I have no pain left because of my Father, but it does mean that I can bear it better because of Him.

Grief comes in waves, sometimes when you least expect it. A decade in, and I still find myself caught off guard by the intensity of emotion that can surface. But I've learned to welcome these waves, to let them wash over me, because they are a testament of the life that was shared.

In honoring Ryan’s memory, I find strength. In sharing our story, I find connection. And in embracing both the joy and the sorrow, I find healing.

If you're navigating grief, whether it's been ten days or ten years, know that you're not alone. Your journey is valid and your emotions are real. It helped knowing that I wasn’t the first person to loose a spouse, and because of this broken world, loss will be something we all face in one way or another. Knowing that, made me feel like there were people out there who “got it”. And while I am so deeply sorry if you are one of those people who “get’s it”, your story got me through. I may not know you personally or know your story at all, but it got me through. You are not alone and I hope you know that.

Allow yourself to feel, to remember, and to honor the person you've lost. And know that in doing so, you're keeping their memory alive in the most beautiful way. Tell the stories, and if you have a friend who is in the middle of loss, ask the questions about their person! We often shy away from asking because we don’t know how it will come across. But know this, it is a gift when someone asks us about the loved ones we have lost. So ask the questions, ask them to tell you “about the time you guys…” and let their hearts tell of the stories.

Grief is a part of my story. It is a part of my kids story. And because of it, we have seen the love of our Father in beautiful ways. Our pain is not wasted. Our hearts can smile at the memories while tears well up in our eyes. We know both joy and pain colliding at the very same time. And we know the work it takes to heal and let Jesus heal our hearts.