How To Find Grace Through The Grieving Of Death.

It is as if the grief storm knocking on my soul hid behind a warm front for days after the news of our friend’s violent death.

It waited until that moment. That moment when your eyes met mine and I watched as you ran towards me.

The storm moving in. The sound of my high heels running towards you. Giant claps of thunder.

“I didn’t think you would be here,” you cry loudly, your body collapsing in my arms — a Magnitude Eight earthquake cracking open at the epicenter of your heart.

I watch it split right down the center and your pain gushes all over both of us in the parking lot outside the church.

I lift you under your arms as if you are a toddler, your face swollen from days of tears. Your pain staining my clothes, my heart, my soul.

“Help,” I thought, looking around to others, “I need a tourniquet. Can’t you see my friend is dying?”

But as I search the familiar faces around me, I realize they are all bleeding out in their grief. There isn’t enough triage in the world to save you from this pain.

I can’t stop the bleeding. Your pain pours all over the pavement below our feet, and in that moment, I am helpless, holding your body upright as you heave sobs.

I am at a complete and total loss for words as I look into your eyes and see you re-live the last violent moments of your best friend’s life.

I let you bleed out your grief on my black stockings. I let your grief drip into the cracks of my shoes and hold you as tight as I can, angry and confused — feeling the full weight of your terrestrial matter in my arms.

I want you to hang onto my shoulders as long as you need, knowing that when we part, I will helplessly watch your heart release this pain, like an EMT watching a triaged patient close their eyes for the last time.

I simply cannot heal this wound.

The release of this control is freeing for my own grief. Understanding the brevity of our friend’s life and my inability to heal the grieving friends around me allows me to recognize the fragility of every living being in sight.

At this moment, I release all control. I lean against the cold brick of the church as I watch hundreds of loved ones get triaged in their grief, and envision what this will look like on the other side.

This grief will momentarily kill you, my friend. But when you cross over, our lives will be re-purposed like fine carpentry to an old barn house.

The story hidden in each of those nail holes will leak occasional sorrow and pain — the story of a terrible earthquake that split open the home of your heart. But those nail holes will not be in vain.

The hand-scraped repair of the wooden home you rebuild for your soul after this earthquake tells a story of a purposeful fulfilling life ahead of you, where moments of laughter and love are not taken for granted.

Moments where the warmth and security of a strong embrace find their home safely inside your spirit.

This death, through the grief you’re experiencing, will morph into an unabashed life of grace.

It will serve as a reminder that through damage comes beauty, and that through storms come even stronger shelters.



AlisonDupraAlison Dupra is a tangible manifestation of wanderlust. As an avid traveler and patriot, she wants to fulfill her purpose through helping others. For work, she is a Healthcare IT Consultant. For love, she is a runner, health enthusiast, America-lover, and self-proclaimed relationship expert. Alison is constantly seeking answers to life’s greatest questions burning inside us all.


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