“And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:7 (NASB 1995)

When my father passed away last year, I expected sadness. What I didn’t expect was the whirlwind of emotions that followed. Sure, there was sorrow, but it was entangled with bitterness, resentment, and even rage… Grief didn’t arrive in a tidy package. It came tangled and raw, and I didn’t quite know how to face it.

I have good memories of my father. He was generous with others, always willing to help, always showing up for those in need. But there are also memories I’ve carried for a long time. Ones where I was overlooked, unprotected, even unwanted. There were moments I felt like he wished I had been someone else, someone he could better understand. That pain didn’t vanish when he died, it became louder.

His passing forced me to confront the complexity of who he was and, more deeply, how I viewed people in general. I used to think people were either good or bad. But I’ve started to see them the way God sees them: flawed, human, in need of grace. No one is entirely one thing. My father wasn’t. And neither am I.

Grieving him has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever walked through. Not because I missed a perfect man, but because I had to mourn both what was and what wasn’t. In that space, I learned to lean on God more deeply. I wrestled with emotions I didn’t want to feel. And God met me in that mess with patience, with comfort, and with the gentle reminder that He sees it all and loves me through it.

If you’re grieving someone and your heart feels torn in a hundred directions, you’re not alone. God can handle our anger, our sadness, our confusion. You don’t have to tidy it up before coming to Him.

Just be still.

Prayer

Lord,
You know the full story, even when I don’t have the words.
I bring you the mix of love and pain, the memories that comfort and the ones that ache.
Help me to grieve honestly, without guilt or shame.
Hold my heart when it feels heavy with what was and what could have been.
Remind me that You see all of it and that You are not afraid of my questions.
Thank You for being near in my sorrow and faithful in my healing.
Amen.