Dealing with Grief: Three Steps to Manage the Pain.
In January 2015, I lost my brother-in-law to bladder cancer. He was in his forties.
In 2016, I went through a divorce I never saw coming.
In 2017, my father suddenly died of a catastrophic stroke. He was only 68 and in perfect health.
In 2018, Steven and I closed our community theater; an eight-year labor of love was over.
(Update . . . In 2022, the Lord called us back to our community theater, and we restarted The Seeing Place)
In January 2019, my 38-year-old brother died suddenly of an ascending aortic aneurysm while working out at the gym.
In April 2019, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer.
The last five years have been marked by profound grief and sorrow—burdens that often feel heavier than I can bear. Grief can leave you feeling untethered, like a feather caught in the wind, drifting aimlessly with no resting place. It comes in many forms and stems from various losses: the passing of a loved one, the pain of divorce or a breakup, the sting of losing a job, the disappointment of a missed opportunity, or even the quiet mourning of losing yourself along life’s winding path.
When my father passed away, I enrolled in a class called GriefShare at a local church. While much of what was discussed has faded from memory, one part of the class has stayed with me: the discussion of the Five Stages of Grief. At the time, this concept felt abstract but has since proven to hold truths I’ve come to understand more deeply.
In discussions of grief, one of society’s most widely accepted concepts is the Five Stages of Grief. These stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are frequently attributed to the work of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, a renowned expert on death and dying. Books and articles have been written about these stages, often framing them as the universal roadmap for navigating grief.
But what you may not know is that Kübler-Ross did not originally develop these stages to describe the grieving process of those who have experienced a loss. Instead, they were part of her research on how patients come to terms with a terminal illness. Her book On Death and Dying (1969) detailed these stages as a framework for understanding the emotional journey of individuals facing their own mortality. While family members of these patients sometimes experienced similar emotions, many did not follow the same trajectory.
When grief entered my life in profound ways, I quickly realized that the Five Stages didn’t fully capture my experience. I didn’t follow them in any linear or predictable way, and it became clear to me that there isn’t a single “right” way to mourn. For this, I’m grateful to my time in GriefShare, which shed light on the origins of these stages and affirmed that it’s okay if I wasn’t experiencing them as expected.
The Stages: A Personal Journey
If you’re going through a season of grief, I want you to know that your process may look completely different from mine—or from anyone else’s. Grief isn’t one-size-fits-all. For me, every loss brought a unique set of emotions and experiences.
With Rick: There was relief amidst the sadness. Rick had battled bladder cancer for four long years. His pain was immense, and I was comforted knowing he was finally at peace in the arms of the Father. But my heart ached for my sister, who became a widow at just 33. I mourned her loss, even as I rejoiced in Rick’s freedom from suffering.
With my father: His death brought shock and emptiness. He was perfectly healthy, and within two days, he was gone. It felt as though the anchor of our family had been ripped away. The grief came in waves of depression and anxiety—emotions I am still navigating two years later. Strangely, the pain today feels even greater than it did at the beginning.
With giving up my theater: This loss carried anger. I was angry at the time I had missed with my family because I was always “at work.” Sadness followed, as did regret over the moments I could never reclaim. I mourned not just the theater, but the precious memories I could have made with my loved ones.
With my brother Ian: Forgive me, but as I write this, I am still in a deep state of despair and shock. Losing Ian feels like losing not only my past but also my future. I find solace in knowing that he is with Jesus, worshiping at the feet of God alongside my father. But the sadness and disbelief linger, filling my days with an ache I cannot put into words.
With my cancer diagnosis: When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, my first thought was, “Are you kidding me, God?”People often refer to thyroid cancer as “the good cancer” because it has a high survival rate. But those who say that have likely never experienced it. The thyroid regulates so many critical functions in the body, and without one, life doesn’t feel the same—even with medication. I grieve the person I was before cancer. I grieve the health I took for granted and the energy I no longer have. I grieve the life I once knew.
As you can see, each of these losses brought different emotions, stages, and struggles. If you are grieving, don’t feel bound by the Five Stages of Grief—or any framework, for that matter. Grief comes in waves. Some days, you might feel healthy and hopeful. Other days, you might struggle to get out of bed, with tears that won’t seem to stop. And that’s okay. There is no “normal” when it comes to grief—only your path, your journey, and the grace to walk through it one day at a time.
Managing Grief
Grief cannot be conquered. It cannot be neatly organized into stages from a self-help book, nor is there a set timeframe for when it will end. But it can be managed. When my mom lost my dad, she often said, “Let me just get past this first year, and I’ll be okay.” The first year came and went, yet her grief remained. It looks different now than it did at the beginning, but it’s still present, a quiet undercurrent in her life.
The truth is, there’s no timeline for when grief will lift or when you’ll feel “normal” again. I’ve learned there’s no such thing as returning to “normal.” Instead, we learn to live in what many call a “new normal.” And while this new reality may never feel quite the same, it doesn’t mean life is without hope or joy.
Here are a few ways I’ve managed my grief and sorrow this season. I hope they might offer you some insight, encouragement, or comfort as you navigate your journey.
1. Feel the Grief
Isaiah 53:3 says, “He [Jesus] is despised and rejected by men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” At first glance, this verse might lead us to picture Jesus as someone constantly weighed down by grief and sorrow. But when we read on, verse 4 reveals something remarkable: “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” It wasn’t His grief that burdened Him—it was ours. What a merciful Savior, who chose to carry our pain, sorrow, and suffering because of His deep, abiding love.
Jesus didn’t just carry our grief; He also experienced it in His own life. In John 11:1–45, we see His deep sorrow over the death of His friend Lazarus. Even though Jesus knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, He allowed Himself to fully feel the pain of human loss. He wept. He grieved. He showed us that feeling sorrow is not weakness—it’s part of being human.
Allowing yourself to feel grief is hard, isn’t it? Our natural instinct is to avoid emotions that hurt, to run from feelings that feel unbearable. But feeling grief is essential if we’re going to make it through the grieving process. Notice, I didn’t say get over it. I don’t believe we ever truly “get over” the loss of a loved one. Instead, we learn to live with it, to move through it, and to find grace in the journey.
I don’t talk about my feelings much, except with my husband. But I’ve found a powerful outlet in journaling. Writing allows me to process and feel my grief in a safe way. Those unfiltered streams of thought often lead to significant revelations—moments of clarity and understanding that I might have missed otherwise.
Feeling your grief doesn’t mean you’re weak or stuck.
It means you’re human, and it means you’re healing . . . step by step.
2. Turn to Scripture
I know I might sound like a broken record sometimes, but my answer for so many struggles—including grief—is always the same: go to Scripture. And it’s true. In these past few days since losing my brother, the only hope I’ve found has been in the Word of God.
One verse that has resonated deeply with me during this time is Isaiah 55:8-9:
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, Nor are your ways My ways,” says the LORD. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, So are My ways higher than your ways, And My thoughts than your thoughts.”
This verse brings me so much peace. Even when I can’t fathom the reasons behind my pain, I can rest in the truth that God knows. He has a reason, a purpose, and a plan. I am learning to trust Him, even in the midst of grief, knowing that He works all things—even the heartbreak of loss—together for good when I trust and seek Him (Romans 8:28).
Dear friend, if grief feels like your constant companion, go to the Word of God. Jesus promised us the Holy Spirit as our Comforter, and I’ve found Him there—in the pages of Scripture, speaking hope and peace to my heart. But let me encourage you to do more than simply read a verse or skim a quick five-minute devotional. Instead, meditate on His Word. Sit with it. Dwell on it. Let it sink into the depths of your heart and mind.
3. Get Help If Needed
Grief is nothing to be ashamed of. If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, “I should be over this by now,” let me gently urge you to reconsider. Grief is a journey, not a race, and there’s no shame in seeking help along the way.
If you’re struggling, talk to someone. Reach out to your pastor, life group leader, a trusted friend, or your spouse. Sometimes, simply sharing your heart with someone who cares can bring a sense of relief. And if you feel like your grief is too heavy to bear alone, consider speaking with a therapist who is rooted in God’s Word.
It’s so important to have someone who will walk alongside you, pray with you, and help you study the Word of God as you navigate your pain. Grief isn’t something we’re meant to carry in isolation.
One excellent resource I’ve personally found helpful is GriefShare. As I mentioned earlier, my mom and I attended a session after my father passed away, and it truly made a difference. GriefShare offers a compassionate, faith-based approach to navigating loss. You can find more information about their programs HERE, where you can locate a group in your area.
Don’t be afraid to reach out.
Help is available, and you don’t have to walk this journey alone.
There is no one way to manage grief. These are just three ways that are helping me through this season of sorrow. Please download this Bible Study on Grief. Whether you Inscribe the passages of Scripture or just read them, I know they will bring you hope in this difficult season.
