Last week at this time, I learned that my Pop-Pop died.

The next morning, my kids were all home from school for Veteran’s Day. After breakfast, my kids began working on some art projects, so I decided to write about my loss.

I moved across the room from my kiddos so I could have space to think and remember.

As I remembered, I cried. Big cries. Sobs, really. My oldest started to tell me something from a book she was reading, then stopped abruptly when she saw my face.

I hadn’t told my kids yet.
Actually, I didn’t want to.

They never knew my Pop-Pop as he was; they only knew him with Alzheimer’s as the older man we would visit at a home with a lot of other older people. So to share my pain with them seemed too…painful. Raw. Hard.

Ten minutes later, my oldest came over and sat on the couch with me.

“Are you okay?”, she asked.
I shook my head no.
“What’s wrong?”
I knew I couldn’t keep the news from my kids forever, and I didn’t necessarily want to. I just knew they wouldn’t feel the hurt like I did, and I was afraid that would cause more pain. But I decided to take a risk and tell her: “My Pop-Pop died yesterday.”

She put her head on my shoulder and just sat with me. We sat there in silence for a while. I cried with her next to me.

My other kids noticed and piled on the couch with us. I told them what happened. They told me they were sorry, and we sat together looking at pictures of our times visiting Pop-Pop.

Karis, my 3 year old, drew a picture for me to take to Pop-Pop. My 6 year old tried to explain that I couldn’t give it to him because he died, but I just gave her a hug and said thank you.

They don’t feel the pain like I do. But in their childish ways, they show love. And their childish love comforts my heart.

It can be tempting to not share your pain with others because you think they won’t understand. They might not.
Maybe you’re afraid they’ll respond with words that cause more pain. They probably will.

But God has not made us to bear our grief alone. He’s made us to live in community, and sometimes—no actually, all the time—that means we will be exposed to pain within our very own community. And yet our healing often doesn’t begin until the moment we share our pain with others.

I want to explore this idea more during my 30-minute writings this week.
If you have thoughts on this topic, I would love to hear them. Comments are closed, but I always welcome emails. You’ll find my contact information at the top right.