I’ve come to realize there’s never going to be a “good” time to talk about grief.

This past year marked a shift for me—for the first time in six years, I attended more weddings than funerals.

I’ve encountered death in ways that leave an indelible mark. I’ve heard the five stages of grief recited more times than I can count. I’ve hugged grieving parents burying a child, nodded in solemn agreement with siblings, woken up to dreaded text messages and missed calls, and shared moments with old friends while mending broken relationships over the death of classmates. For a while, I thought I had grief figured out: you sit, listen, observe, cry, get angry, laugh, and eventually accept. But the process repeats—over and over again.

Somehow, grief has been more prevalent in my life over the last six months than in the previous six years. And I haven’t quite figured it out. (To spare you an hour-long explanation, here’s the short version: I was in a tubing accident seven months ago and now carry the weight of a traumatic brain injury.)

I’m still learning how to grieve who I was and who I might never be again. How to grieve the physical freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. How to grieve the act of reading without needing to trace each word with my finger. How to grieve not playing the guitar like I used to, or always speaking efficiently. How to grieve the memories I’ve lost from the last three years.

Recently, I wrote in my journal—like a child trying to make sense of it all: “It’s been the worst and best year all at the same time.” And it’s true. Deeper sorrow has brought a deeper dependence on the Lord, which has birthed a deeper joy.

Here’s to a year of joy: a year of learning new things and relearning old ones. A year of speech therapy and neurology appointments. A year of reading with my finger on the page. A year of learning to suffer well. And a year of finding joy in the smallest of things.

My greatest hope is that if you’re experiencing grief—whether for yourself or someone you love—these reflections help you love the person grieving, even if that person is you. 

1. Recognize that grief can be experienced by death, relationships, divorce, health, infertility, guilt, miscarriage, unemployment, deployment, etcetera and I think the list really could go on and on and on. 

2. The five stages of grief are absolutely ridiculous. Especially if you think you will walk through them linear and only once. 

3. Show up and be intentional. Listen – it will be awkward, it will be sad, it will be emotional, it will be heavy, you will say the wrong thing, you will make them cry, you will hurt their feelings, you will share some laughs, you will share in their joy, you will hear stories that they haven’t thought about in years, you will hear stories that, truthfully, you didn’t want to hear, but you showing up in these moments will be cherished and remembered for the rest of their life. 

4. Be a servant. Bring food to their house, wash the dishes in their sink, check the washer and dryer, sweep the floor, take out the trash, take the dogs on a walk, take the kids. The most important thing here is this – do not offer to do any of these things, just do it. 

5. Have grace and forgiveness for the person experiencing grief, especially if that person is you.