In grief, questions abound. We wonder about many things. The same questions tend to circle around us – over, and over, and over again.
From the Grieving Heart:
I miss you. Badly.
I have one of your voicemails saved. I find myself listening to it over and over. I can’t believe you’re gone.
How did this happen? Why? Why you?
I keep asking the same questions. My mind runs around the same track, again and again. I feel like I’m going in circles.
And yet, I’m going nowhere. I’m barely moving at all. I go from thing to thing, person to person, without seeing anything. I’m a shadow, flitting in and out of what the rest of the world calls “normal life.”
What’s normal now? Nothing. Everything has changed. I don’t like this world anymore because you’re not in it.
Can you hear me? Where are you?
I look around. It seems like the same world, but it’s not. Far from it.
I’m a ball of emotion. Sad. Angry. Frustrated. Confused. Sometimes it’s hard to tell one emotion from another. I feel hijacked, like I’ve been kidnapped and taken to some alternate reality.
Surreal. That’s the word I was looking for.
Questions, but few answers.
Here are 5 reasons we tend to ask the same questions, over and over:
1. Our hearts and minds shift into survival mode.
Our hearts are broken. We’ve taken a massive hit, and our minds are in survival mode. The unbelievable has happened. The unthinkable has taken place. No wonder we’re spinning.
What? How? Why? The questions begin to assault us.
2. Our souls desperately try to make sense of our new reality.
Our souls grapple to understand this new reality of a world without someone we love. We will always deny what we are not prepared to accept, and we’re certainly not ready to accept life without them yet.
What happened? How can this be? What do I do now?
3. We fight to cling to them though they are no longer here.
Even though they’re gone, their place in our hearts remains secure. We look for them. We listen for their voice. We try to keep them close any way we can. Pictures. Videos. Texts. Voicemails. Letters. Our search is part of love in action.
Why did you go? Did this have to happen? Who’s responsible? Why didn’t I…?
4. Our entire world has been altered.
Each morning we expect to wake in the same world as yesterday. After a loss, this illusion is shattered. We live in a different place now, one without our loved one. Everything seems off, strange, weird. Life is surreal.
How could you be gone? How could this happen? Why you? Why me? Why us? Why now? Why?
5. Overwhelm and overload relentlessly squeeze us.
Navigating all these emotions and changes can seem about as doable as a solo swim of the Pacific. Even tiny things become gigantic.
This is no longer the same world. Not for you. You did not ask for or want this change. Loss invaded, and then grief moved in. No wonder your emotions are all over the place and your anxiety level is through the roof.
What does this mean for me? Who am I now? What’s next? Who’s next? What will life be like now?
Yes, things are surreal. No, nothing is quite as it was. Your loved one mattered. Their departure is shaking your universe.
Your mind will spin. Emotions will hijack you. Your heart will ask repetitive questions. Your soul will search for answers. You are feeling your loved one’s absence.
All of this is natural. It is common. You’re not weird. You’re not crazy. Your heart is broken. You’re grieving.
Affirmation:
Life is surreal. I’m trying to make sense of things. This will take time.
Adapted from Comfort for Grieving Hearts: Hope and Encouragement for Times of Loss. Grab your copy or download a free excerpt today.
Question: Have you been plagued by the same questions over and over? What questions bother you the most?
Are these recurring questions ever answered? I understand it’s all normal feelings/thoughts but I want answers. 🙂
HI Sara. Thanks for asking. In many cases, yes, I believe they are. But so much of it depends on our personal situation, what exactly we’re asking and want to know, etc. If there are specific questions you’re really tussling with, please feel free to email me and we’ll discuss them – if you would like to. Our heart have a tough time resting without some kind of resolution.
My baby boy. Two years was not enough with you. I can not stop replaying that night, finding you already gone under the bed. How did no one hear you cry for help? Did you even cry for help? It all happened too soon. You were the love of my life. If i could go back in time, I would sacrifice myself to save you. I feel like I am dead inside anyway. I am in counseling and on medication. It hasn’t even been a month without you. How am I supposed to keep living?
Hello Kay. Thank you for sharing with us. I’m so, so sorry. What a tragedy. Thank you for taking your heart seriously and reaching out for help. No one can do this alone. We need each other badly. Please feel free to share here anytime. You are not alone, Kay.
Lost my husband of 32 years 8 mos. ago. I keep hearing I am to lean into the grief, to surrender to it so I can heal. Does crying and letting myself feel the pain everyday count? When does that turn into complicated grief? I am functioning – doing what has to be done to survive but I am doing it mostly alone. Friends have moved on and are trying to be patient with me but I can tell they worry I am not getting better. I am trusting in Jesus to hold my hand through this process because I certainly can’t see the future… At present, I don’t want a future without my husband though I believe that one day I will. All of life hurts.
HI Kathy. Thank you for sharing with us. I’m so sorry about your husband. No wonder you’re hurting. You should be. Yes…it’s a tough line to draw – leaning into the grief day after day and wondering if you’re getting any better. It certainly sounds like you’re taking your heart seriously and doing what you know to do to grieve well – and that’s huge. The alone part sounds, well, lonely. Do you have anyone where you are that you can share freely with. Most of the time, we just need reassurance from someone who knows us and knows the process that we’re doing okay – even though it doesn’t feel ok. And yes, the color will come back into life, although right now I know that might seem impossible. If you haven’t already, you might want to check out Heartbroken: Healing from the Loss of a Spouse. You can download a free excerpt and see if it resonates with you and your situation. Please keep reaching out. We’re here!
Jimmy has been gone almost 5 yrs. I miss him sooooo much. I am so worried or concerned if he will b waiting for me when I die. He doesn’t visit in dreams. I just want to touch his face again. This what u call a new world sucks big time.
Hi Joanne. Thanks for sharing with us. I’m so sorry about Jimmy. Yes, this is not the world we wanted or planned on. I know you miss him terribly. Please be patient with yourself in all this. You are not alone. This road is well populated.
Why suicide???
Did I say something wrong?
Did she really do this?
Hi Margie. Thanks for sharing. I’m so, so sorry. Yes, I would wonder too. The questions just keep coming… Please feel free to reach out here anytime. We’re here to help, if we can. Blessings to you…
Thank you
Hi Lisa. I’m so glad you found it helpful. Please feel free to reach out to us anytime!
My son was horrifically tortured and murdered 12 yrs ago.. the police wouldn’t help me save him. (They were scared of her) she incinerated his body and disposed of his ashes. Life has stopped for me.. how can i go forward?
Hi Charly. I’m so sorry about your son. How terrible and traumatic – off the scale. And that would be bad enough, but it sounds like there are other things that have come in to complicate this whole thing even more. Ugh. I can’t imagine. Yes, it’s as if life has stopped. All we can do is grieve – and grieve as well as we can, in ways that honor our loved ones. Please feel free to reach out to us – emails, etc. We’re here to support you, if we can. Please be kind to yourself, Charly.
I needed to hear that and be reminded ! Thank You!
HI Carol. You’re more than welcome. If we can help in any way, let us know. Blessings…
I have been talking to him this morning, telling him how much I miss him and that it is time to get ready for deer hunting season, and I wish he were here and we were fishing today while listening to the Ala. Football, game. Haven’t had a good steak since he left. I should have watched closer how you grilled them. Sold the lake house, boat, etc. no fun without you, and I could not maintain it alone. Would be fun to go on another cruise, probably a Bill Gaither one this time. Grandkids are all martied except Josh. Great grandkids will soon start marrying. They are growing up. I get really lonely without you but you are my one and only. I love you still, my time is drawing near, I have a lot of physical things happening that let me know it will not be long before we are reunited. I am trying to prepare the kids and hopefully see it easier for them. I will be so happy to see you well, whole, the man I married, 62 years ago Oct. 1 1956. Anticipating celebrating an anniversary with you.
Hello Betty. Good to hear from you, and thank you for sharing with us. Your heart is so evident in this comment. Thank you for your love for him. And I’m so sorry about these physical challenges. Praying for you now. If we can help in any way, please let us know. We do indeed look forward to the grand reunion ahead. Blessings to you, Betty.
Since childhood I’ve been a survivor yet I cannot find the coping skills to handle my grief over our 18-year-old son Jack’s death four years ago. Yet, I feel like I’m trying everything including counseling, support groups, eating right, exercising, relocating to the beach , reading , journaling , breathing and most recently hired s life coach.
HI Kathi. I’m so sorry about Jack. Thank you for sharing with us. Yes, that loss changes everything. You have certainly been active in pursuing healing and trying to grieve in healthy ways. Even though we’ve been survivors, nothing prepares us for losses like this. The pain is terrible. Please feel free to reach out and contact us at anytime, Kathi. Continue to be patient with yourself. You’re more valuable than you know.