Introduction
Grief has a way of changing shape over time. In the beginning, there may be so much to do that there is little room to fully process the loss. But when life finally becomes quieter, the feelings we have been carrying can begin to rise to the surface.
For Christians, grieving with faith does not mean pretending the pain is gone or forcing ourselves to feel strong. It means bringing our sadness, questions, memories, and longing honestly before God. Sometimes, finding God in grief happens not through dramatic answers, but through quiet moments when we realize He has been beside us all along.
This season has been teaching me that grief and gratitude can exist together, and that God can meet us in both.
Back in July, I wrote about closing the door on one chapter of my life.
The house my dad and I had shared for twelve years had sold, the closing was finished, and I was getting ready to leave the Tampa Bay area and head for my sister’s property in the mountains of North Carolina.
At the time, so much of my attention was still focused on what had to be done. There were papers to sign, belongings to sort through, decisions to make, and a move to complete.
I knew I was grieving, of course.
But I’m beginning to realize that grief and having time to actually feel grief are not always the same thing.
I’ve been here in North Carolina since then, and in many ways, this is exactly where I wanted to be. I’ve loved the mountains for years. There is something about the quiet here that settles me.
The mornings around the firepit with coffee, the winding roads, the trees, the streams, and the slower pace have helped ease some of the stress I had been carrying since Dad passed away in January.
And yet, now that the noise of those first difficult months has quieted down, something else has gotten louder.
The grief.
When the Busyness Ends
For months after Dad died, I had things I had to do.
I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart every time I wanted to. There were practical matters that demanded my attention, and I think part of me simply did what was necessary to get through each day.
Now there are fewer deadlines. Fewer urgent decisions.
The house is sold. The move is over. I’m no longer surrounded by the constant reminders of everything that needed my attention.
And maybe that is why some of the feelings I pushed down are finally finding their way to the surface.
I’m learning that grief doesn’t always arrive all at once.
Sometimes it waits quietly while we survive the immediate crisis. Then, when life becomes calmer and there is finally room to breathe, the heart begins to process what happened.
Psalm 34:18 — “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
I find a lot of comfort in that verse because it doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t be brokenhearted. It doesn’t tell me to hurry up and feel better.
It simply reminds me that God comes close.
And right now, I need that closeness.
Seeing Dad Everywhere
One thing I didn’t expect was how much I would feel Dad’s presence here.
In some ways, I feel him more in these mountains than I did in the house we shared for twelve years.
He loved this place.
When we pass one of his favorite fishing spots, I think of him. When my sister and I sit around the firepit in the morning with our coffee, I think of him.
There are places here connected to memories of Dad, and sometimes those memories make me smile.
Other times, they make me overwhelmingly sad.
A Dream That Feels Different Now
I think part of what I’m struggling with is making this new life feel real.
I’m finally living in a place I had hoped to live for several years. But somewhere in all those dreams about the future, I suppose I pictured Dad still being part of them.
I never imagined arriving here without him.
And if I’m being completely truthful with God, there are moments when I tell Him I would give all of this back if it meant I could have more time with my dad.
I don’t think God is offended by that honesty.
He already knows what is in my heart before I say it.
Psalm 62:8 — “Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”
Pouring out my heart to God means I don’t have to clean up my grief before I bring it to Him.
I can be grateful for where He has brought me and still wish Dad were here. I can love this new home and still ache for the life that ended.
Gratitude and grief can exist in the same heart.
Grateful and Grieving at the Same Time
I am grateful. Truly.
I’m grateful for my sister. I’m grateful for the peaceful place God has given me to land. I’m grateful for the kind people I’ve met since arriving here. I’m grateful that, after months of stress, I have a little room to rest.
But gratitude does not cancel grief.
I’m beginning to understand that healing may look less like leaving grief behind and more like learning how to carry love and loss together.
Some days that may mean enjoying the mountains without guilt.
Some days it may mean crying because Dad should be here to enjoy them too.
And some days it may simply mean telling God, “This hurts today,” and trusting that He understands.
Giving Grief the Space It Needs
I don’t have a perfect plan for this season. But I’m beginning to see a few things I may need to give myself permission to do:
- Let the tears come instead of assuming I should be doing better by now.
- Remember Dad without being afraid of the sadness that sometimes comes with the memories.
- Enjoy the life God has placed in front of me without feeling as though enjoying it means I am leaving Dad behind.
- Talk honestly with God, even when what I have to say is messy, painful, or full of questions.
- Take my time finding a church rather than letting fear convince me I will never find where I belong.
- Accept kindness and friendship from the people God places in my path.
- Trust that grief has no timetable and that God will meet me in each part of it.
Starting Over Spiritually, Too
I still haven’t found a church here.
Even thinking about walking into a new church by myself scares me a little, if I’m being honest.
There is something vulnerable about starting over spiritually as well as geographically. I know I need Christian community, but knowing that and feeling ready for it are two different things.
So for now, I’m asking God to guide me.
Not necessarily to show me the whole path, but to help me take the next step when it is time.
Isaiah 41:10 — “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”
That promise feels especially meaningful in a season when so much is unfamiliar.
I enjoy spending time stargazing, watching the fireflies, listening to worship music, and engaging in faith-based writings as I read God’s Word.
And I’m doing all of it without the person who was such a constant part of my life for so long.
God Is Still Here in the Quiet
Maybe that is what this season is really about.
Not moving on from Dad.
Not forgetting.
Not forcing myself to be okay because the hardest practical parts are over.
Maybe it is about allowing myself to finally grieve.
The mountains have given me something I didn’t know how much I needed: space.
Space to remember. Space to cry. Space to sit quietly with a cup of coffee and miss my dad.
Space to notice the ways God has cared for me even while my heart has been hurting.
Learning to Call This Home
And perhaps, with time, this place will begin to feel like home in a new way.
Not because Dad isn’t here, but because the love and memories I carry with me are part of the life I am building.
I still wish he were here.
I expect I always will.
But I also believe God knew I would need this place. He knew I would need the quiet. He knew I would need my sister nearby.
He knew I would need time for everything I had pushed down to finally come out.
And He is here with me in it.
Lamentations 3:22-23 — “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.”
One Day at a Time
Right now, I’m trying not to ask myself when I will feel completely settled or when the grief will become easier.
I’m trying instead to receive each day as it comes.
A quiet morning. A familiar fishing spot. A memory that makes me laugh. A memory that makes me cry. A conversation with someone new.
Maybe, one day soon, the courage to walk through the doors of a new church.
One day at a time.
I don’t know exactly what this new chapter will look like.
But I know the same God who carried me through the months after Dad’s passing is still carrying me now.
And when grief finally has room to breathe, I’m learning that God is not asking me to rush through it.
He is simply asking me to let Him sit with me in it.
Conclusion
Grieving with faith is not about rushing toward healing or trying to leave the person we loved behind. It is about trusting God enough to bring Him the grief exactly as it is, one day at a time.
I am still learning what finding God in grief looks like for me. Some days it is found in Scripture. Some days it is in the quiet of the mountains, a familiar memory, a conversation with someone kind, or simply the reassurance that I do not have to carry everything alone.
The grief is still there because the love is still there. But so is God.
For more writings from Christian Author, Lori Domingo, click here.