The second day on my race I got some of the worst news of my life. I remember being with some friends at base in GA after dark and just laughing. Laughing at everything we encountered. Ava taking pictures of everything, always wanting to capture the moments. I got a call from my mom and Ava took a photo of me on the phone, just then my mom asked to speak to Ava. Nothing out of the ordinary since this is so common for them to speak. Little did I know my mom was preparing for someone to hold me while I broke. The seven words that I’ll never forget then passed my mother’s lips “Your Aunt Amanda passed away last night.” I was broken. Hundreds of miles from home, nowhere near comfort that I’m used to. I sobbed for hours, it all felt so fake but so real. Anytime I thought about it I would break down.
Two weeks later I went home for the funeral, back to my family and back to my comfort. I was prepared to be able to finally grieve and be with people who understood the pain I was experiencing. That moment never came though. I wasn’t able to process or to have a moment of realization. I was home for a funeral and there was no true and understanding emotion behind it. I knew why I was there, I knew what was happening but nothing processed. It was so hard because I went home to get that comfort, but by the time I was back in GA, I realized I never got to grieve.
I was so hurt. I felt like I was doing something wrong. I felt like I should’ve grieved when I was home or even when I got the news. One thing that was hard for me to learn is grief has no timeline. I got through GA and LA with no moment of realization. Then one simple night in Guatemala we were having a bonfire and the realization hit me like a train. The tears flowed, my body shook and I was totally gone. I was so broken, just sobbing on the side of the soccer field with my friends trying to comfort me. It was one of the best and worst moments of my life. I was finally grieving and it was amazing, but also, I was finally grieving and it was a total nightmare. I had no way to contact home and process with my family, I was just stuck processing aloud in the freezing cold.
I hit my absolute lowest point that night. I sobbed for hours, in the grass, in the shower, in my bed. I couldn’t process a single thing around me, I wasn’t okay, I was just lost. I had the total strength of the Lord that night and all the days following. My grief was something I always struggled with because I felt like it held me back from growing. In reality, my grief helped me grow in ways I might never understand. I now know what it’s like to completely depend on the Lord in moments of grief and realization. My grief has helped me to do things in life differently, like how to be more vulnerable and how to look at the positives in times of complete sadness. The Lord provided me so much comfort in my grief because it doesn’t define me and hold me back, it helps build me up and helps me look at things in the Lords prospective.
There isn’t a motivational speech or a word that will lift you from grief. It is something that needs to process. Know that you are around those who care for you and seek true growth and joy for you. Heather and I send big hugs too you.
Tanner!!!!! This is incredible and sums up the confusion and emotions of grieving so well. I love you so much and you are truly one of the strongest people I know.
Precious Tanner,
It delights my heart to read how much you’ve allowed the Lord to heal you. Growth comes thru many tears and trust on your Heavenly Father. I’m excited of your journey with AIM.
sweet tanner! so proud of you to look back on this and write about how the Lord worked through it. its so encouraging to have walked through this with you and see how much the Lord has grown you and held you through it all! i love you SO much!
Truly, grief cannot be put on a timeline, cannot be predicted, mustn’t be assumed, holds no boundaries. And you are right, grief is also not a burden and is often an avenue through which the Lord works mightily. And just when you think you’ve worked through the hardest (and best) of it, then another stage of it will come along, sometimes so unexpectedly. The beauty of it all is that our grief – in all of its seasons and stages – somehow gives us strength to keep on keeping on, maybe because it reveals our depth of love.