Through My Tears

My Grief Story

He sat at the edge of bed in agonizing pain. His eyes swelled with tears that quickly rolled down his cheeks. I helped my dad undress after a long day at church (his peripheral neuropathy took a toll on him). He doubled over, placing his head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably. I did the only thing I could think to do in that moment. As I stood in front of him, I folded myself over him and hugged his body. We wept together. Grief; the weightiest human experience. It is insufferable and yet it is a staple part of human life. Grief, as defined by Mariam-Webster Dictionary, is a deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement (Mariam-Webster, 2019). It has many other meanings depending on the context. I think we can all agree that its greatest impact and significance is felt upon the separation from a loved one. Here in lies the juxtaposition because my dad had not died and yet, there I was grieving my dad’s pain.

The day my dad announced his cancer diagnosis to our family, time stopped. The world felt like it exploded, and we could not process what we heard. When I reflect on that day, I often think about the dreams I had as a child. In my dreams, I could see myself running frantically, trying to escape a boulder. I was unsuccessful. The boulder would fall on me hard, and I would jolt from my sleep. I did not wake up when my dad said he had stage IV pancreatic cancer. The boulder fell and I never woke up from my worst nightmare. One of my sisters shared this insight with me:

                “We lack understanding and fear of the unknown. We know that the day is coming when we will not see our loved ones any longer. We grieve what we know we will miss about their person and presence. It’s how we make sense of what we don’t understand; death.” Dee Saint

This is the hard truth. We do not understand death as much as we would like to. Our minds fight to understand the impending absence of our loved ones. We try our best to make sense of a future without them. It has been three years since our dad took his eternal rest and I am happy to share that we have found a way to navigate his absence. As a family, we have found ways to continue his legacy and keep his memory alive. It is not easy to navigate grief, but we have chosen to view this journey like water. Sometimes water is turbulent, other times it is still. Sometimes the waves crash into the shore, and sometimes we can not see what is below. In every phase, we approach it as it comes. Whatever you do, I encourage you to keep swimming. Me and my family are followers of Christ. As Christians we believe in eternal life through Jesus Christ. We believe upon the return of Christ Jesus; we will see our dad again one day. This is the comfort we stand on:

                “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.”  1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

You are not alone on this journey. If you are seeking a community and family of love, compassion, and support after receiving a pancreatic cancer diagnosis, we welcome you. If your loved has received this diagnosis we welcome, you. If your loved one(s) has passed from this life, you are welcome here. To join the Baylor Strong community, we invite you to subscribe to our blog below.

Works Cited

Merriam-Webster. (2019). Definition of GRIEF. Merriam-Webster.com. https://www.merriam- webster.com/dictionary/grief

1 Thessolonians 4:13-14. English Standard Bible via Blue Letter Bilble. Crossway Books and Bibles.

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