The Quiet Side of Grief
“Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.” — José N. Harris
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This morning at The Point, the clouds hung heavy, but the light still found a way to shine through — and that felt fitting. My heart was already carrying the weight of someone else’s sorrow. Lauren is hurting deeply right now, and there’s not a thing I can do to take that pain away. That’s the hardest part of being a parent… when your child is grieving and there’s no bandage big enough to cover the ache.
I know that kind of pain — the kind that makes you feel alone, even when your arms are full of family. You ask yourself, “Will this ever stop hurting?” And the truth is, maybe not completely. Some losses never really leave us. But the sharpness dulls, and in time, the memories — the good ones, the silly ones, the quiet, beautiful ones — begin to ease the weight.
Sometimes just being present, listening, and offering love is all we can do. And maybe that’s enough.
So I stood there this morning, watching the sun fight its way past the clouds. It reminded me that grief doesn’t mean we’re broken. It just means we’ve loved deeply. And when we carry the memory of those we’ve lost, we’re still holding a part of them with us — not in pain, but in honor.
If you’re hurting right now — like Lauren is — I hope you know you’re not alone. The sunrise shows up every day, whether we’re ready or not — a reminder that healing comes slowly, but surely… and never without love.
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