A Small Window Into My Book

This book was born from the power of staying. From years of sitting with people in their sorrow. From witnessing the quiet courage it takes to keep going when life no longer looks the way you thought it would. And from my own experiences of learning that grief is not something we move past, but something we learn to live alongside.

What follows is an excerpt from my book on our inclination to rush grief:

Why We Rush Grief

We live in a culture that is deeply uncomfortable with pain. Efficiency is praised. Productivity is expected. Even healing is sometimes measured in how quickly someone “gets back to normal.”

But there is no normal after deep loss, there is only a new landscape. When we rush someone’s grief, we may unintentionally communicate:

“This is taking too long.”

“Your sadness makes me uneasy.”

“I need you to be okay so I can feel okay.”

Most grieving people are already worried they are “too much.” They are already afraid their tears are exhausting others. What they need instead is permission.

They need permission to: Miss them. Be angry. Laugh one minute and cry the next. Feel relief and guilt in the same breath. Love someone who is no longer physically here.

Grief is layered. It is not tidy. And it does not follow a predictable script.

What Helps Instead

If grief is not something to fix, what is our role?

We become witnesses. We say:

“Tell me about her.”

“What do you miss most?”

“What was he like?”

“I’m here.”

We sit longer than feels efficient. We listen more than we speak. We allow silence to stretch. We trust that love does not need to be corrected.

Over time, hope will come. Faith will breathe again. Heaven will feel like comfort instead of abstraction. But those things unfold gently, not because we forced them, but because we stayed.

You can find my book "Light Lives Here: Finding Hope in the Valley of Grief HERE