It’s been four and a half years since my precious wife Nanci went to be with Jesus. The early months of grief were disorienting and excruciating, and even the first year was unlike anything I’ve ever known, though I had experienced considerable loss and grief saying goodbye to my mother, father, best friend (Jerry was my best male friend; Nanci was always my best friend), and a number of other good friends.
A month after Nanci died, I thought I was losing my mind, and that dementia was setting in because I literally had to look at a calendar not just to remind myself of what day it was, but of what month it was. The truth is, most of the time I didn’t even care what month it was. All I knew is that I had Nanci for 54 years, and she had been my soulmate through all 47 years of our marriage, and then suddenly our house was quiet. Her loud, contagious, and delightful laughter was no longer there. She wasn’t cheering during football games, she wasn’t at the family functions, she wasn’t there for our anniversary in May, and she wasn’t present for Thanksgiving or Christmas or the kids’ and grandkids’ birthdays. Her absence felt like a kick in the gut every single day. There is nothing like that loss. I consoled myself that I was grieving so much precisely because I had loved her so much, and still do.
When I say I was grieving, I don’t mean every minute. I kept busy with important things that included pouring my life into others, which is healthy as long as you keep in touch with what’s happening in your own heart. The grief comes in waves, and those waves will continue until I’m with Jesus. And yet, there is healing over time. God reminds me that He is not done with me as long as He keeps me here in this world. He has a purpose, and even though there have been times I’ve wanted nothing more than to just be with Him and Nanci, God knows best, and my times are in His hands. As I live my life, I have the opportunity to represent Jesus first and foremost, but also secondly, to represent Nanci and the things that were closest to her heart. That is a great privilege.
Other than Jesus, Nanci has been the center of gravity in my life. When your center of gravity is no longer there, it’s easy to fly off out of orbit. But God keeps me centered on Him, and has given me the grace to walk with Him even on days when my heart has been so broken that I thought I could hardly endure. “God heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3).
Dr. Lee Warren is a neurosurgeon and the author of The Life-Changing Art of Self-Brain Surgery and Hope Is the First Dose, which shares what he learned about grief after his son’s death. He says this in an Instagram post:
For a long time I thought healing meant the ache would eventually go away. That someday I’d wake up and it just wouldn’t hurt anymore. That’s not what happened, and I’ve come to believe that’s actually good news.
…Neuroscience tells us grief isn’t a wound that closes. It’s more like a new neural pathway your brain builds to hold both the love and the loss at the same time. Every time you remember him, you’re not reopening a wound, you’re strengthening a connection between who he was and who you are now. Grief and love run on the same circuitry. That’s why it never fully quiets. It’s not supposed to.
…Thirteen years later, I don’t grieve the way I did in year one. But I still grieve. What’s changed is what I carry alongside it: gratitude that I got to be his father, and hope that this isn’t the end of his story or mine.
Here’s his video sharing more:
Though Nanci’s death was a heartbreaking interruption in our relationship, I anticipate our everlasting reunion in a world without sin and suffering and grief, where happiness will be the air we breathe, and where we will be part of the same marriage of God’s people to our wonderful Bridegroom. This means my grief—real as it is—has a shelf life, with an expiration date.
Nanci stenciled this on our bedroom wall, and it is the first thing I see when I wake up every morning:
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22-23)
What else can contemplating the unceasing steadfast love of God, and His great faithfulness to us, do but give us strength for the day ahead? Jesus is my closest and dearest friend as I’ve walked this journey of grief. I can’t imagine life without Him. But in particular, I can’t imagine life without His friendship and my daily awareness of His presence and love and grace. I’m so grateful to know that because of Jesus, what’s ahead of me is a world where God’s children will truly—not grounded in a fairy tale but God’s great promises—all live happily ever after.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).
