Five Years Later

It can often seem as though you will always be drowning beneath the acute pain of loss. However, while our grief never truly ends, it doesn’t always look and feel the same way. In this series, our writers speak from where they are now in their grief, _________ years later. Throughout this series, you will find testimonies of how grief changes us, and how God uses our heartache to shape us into a greater reflection of His image.

If you could peek into my journal five years ago, you would see a mother who was deeply anguished. My words were deep with raw emotions as I cried out to God, seeking His face somewhere in all the darkness. You would see me desperately trying to reconcile God’s goodness with the pain my heart was experiencing. I knew He was good, but grief had washed away my memory of all the good He had done. I knew He would never forsake me, but all I felt was empty and alone.

Maybe that’s where you find yourself today. Are you deep in the pit of grief that threatens to swallow you up? Are you desperately seeking God in the midst of all the hurt? Do you feel like you will never be able to find joy again? The beginning of grief has a way of doing that. It has a way of consuming your entire being: heart, body, and mind. It has a way of making you feel hopelessly lost in the middle of a deep ocean as the waves of sorrow crash down relentlessly. Those first few weeks and months of grief are painful, but powerful. It is here that your faith and this broken world intersect, and your heavenly Father will meet you here.

One of the best things I did with my time in the first months after my son’s death was to simply be with God. It was the only place I found a glimmer of peace. I spent countless hours reading Scripture, journaling, crying out to my Savior for something—anything—that would heal my broken heart. I learned that it was okay for me to question Him. It was in the questioning that I was able to honestly and completely lay my heart at the feet of Jesus. It took that full surrender for any transformation and healing to take place. The first year, despite its immense pain, was truly a blessing.

The next few years were spent deepening my faith. The grief was still ever present. Some days it felt like the undercurrent of strong waves were threatening to pull me back into that deep ocean of grief, but those days became fewer and farther between. I was finally able to breathe again without constant pain. God continued to be faithful in comforting my hurting heart through His Word and through people He brought into my life. I found myself keenly aware that He was actively answering my prayers on a daily basis. I kept a prayer journal so that I could look back and see the evidence of how He was working. I began to realize that without this tragedy and the grief that followed, I would have missed this intimate communion with the Father. I would have missed Him showing me just how faithful, kind, good, and worthy of praise He is. The heartbreak was what I needed to press into God and let go of my self-reliance.

Five years have passed since I held my son’s tiny body and kissed his sweet face. Five years spent in grief and growth. How can the years pass so quickly and so slowly at the same time? My grief has changed. Some days the grief is fresh and the sting is like that of the first moment I knew he was gone. But now, most days are spent reflecting on the past five years and seeing just how far God has brought me. Although I ache for my sweet child every day, I can now speak about him without crying. I am able to serve other families that have experienced the loss of a child. God filled the bottomless pit in my heart with thankfulness and a purpose.

How can I look back at all that He has done for me, those around me, and in the far corners of the world through my son’s short life and offer Him anything but praise? He is indeed a good Father. You might not see it now, but rest assured, sweet sister, there is a purpose in all of this, and there will come a day when you can stand on the shore of that deep ocean of grief and see just how far He has brought you.

Megan Kelley is married to Jake and the mother to seven babies. Her first child she lost to miscarriage in September of 2009. She then had two children, Hunter (7) and Preston (5). After Preston, she lost her next two to miscarriage in March and August of 2014. A month later, she found out she was pregnant with her son, Thatcher, who was diagnosed with Edwards Syndrome. He went to his heavenly home shortly after he was born on April 17, 2015. She was blessed with her latest addition, Abigail Quinn in July of 2017. She loves painting, gardening, cooking, reading, and playing with her kids at the park.

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