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Trevor M. Williams's avatar

During this past football season, my dolphins looked very promising. As I was watching one game, the Dolphins were putting a beating on the Broncos and scored 70. My first response was to call my father, which is where I but I recognized just as I was getting ready to dial this number that he would not answer. This was more than a year and a half since he’s been gone. I’m just started grieving my father.

Losing my wife, dad, and grandmother within a nine month span didn’t give me a chance to really breath. It’s like doing a timed workout and the clock is at 5 seconds left and all of a sudden it resets to 5 mins. I’m emotionally cooked, physically drained but I gotta push thru it because there are people depending on me.

Six months after I tragically lose my wife, I find myself eulogizing my dad, who two months earlier was diagnosed with terminal stage 4 prostate cancer. The craziest part of all is the fact that after I finished preaching his eulogy and we concluded the service, I had preachers asking me for dates to preach at their church?!

I politely decline their invitations, but in my head I’m thinking, “What the hell are you thinking about? I just eulogize my father six months after my wife just passed away, and you asking me about preaching dates?”

One, this raised my awareness to how tone deaf people are to people who are grieving.

Secondly, I recognized the work of the Holy Spirit in my life to have the strength stand up declare His goodness while feeling like my world is falling apart and the reality of taking care of not only my household,

I found it interesting that I really didn’t want to do my father’s eulogy, but literally had to talk myself out of doing my wife’s eulogy. The biggest reason is didn’t want to present this false narrative that I WAS OK and clearly I was not OK.

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Josefina H's avatar

These words John. 🥹

As I continue to live with grief, I am still learning to be okay with it. Some days I succeed, others not so much.

When I lost my second child, my mom said “dale tiempo al tiempo”

All I wanted to do was feel better. I didn’t want to be sad. I didn’t want to fall in this state of depression again. I didn’t want to hold hands with grief. I wanted to reach that place where I accepted it and moved forward. Yet her words were to give time, time. Give healing time. Give grief time. Give yourself time. And really for me it was an invitation of honoring grief and giving myself grace and gentleness. Being honest that I wasn’t and still have moments where I’m not okay, but choosing to be present anyway.

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