In the Midst of Loss

In the Midst of Loss

Grief isn’t a respecter of persons; it doesn’t mind who you are or where you are. It comes in the stillness of night and the chaos of the day as you daze into the surroundings of continued life while your world comes to a screeching halt once again, as the reality of loss reminds you of that painful void.

It’s not the big moments in life that are missed when your world turns upside down; it’s the “good morning” texts, the enthusiasm when you’ve successfully “adulted” and the listening ear when “adulting” becomes too overwhelming, the sound of their voice saying “I love you.” It’s the smallest everyday things that we take for granted, things that you never would’ve thought would be missed.

Missing my mom is the kind of heartache that you can feel in your bones, the heart wrenching pain that sucks the life from your very soul. Saying goodbye was easy, for I knew that where she was going, there is no better place. Learning to live without her, that is the hardest part. Most days, I’m okay, but the reality of her absence creeps around like a shadow in the night, waiting for the stillness of opportune moments to overshadow the presence of peace and soundness of mind.

If I have been reminded of anything over the past six months, it’s the importance of honesty. Honesty not just with those around me or myself, but with God. I’m not speaking to the fact that he already knows all, but the fact that with honesty comes willingness; willingness to lay down my pride and be human, willingness to admit that I’m not okay and accept that there’s nothing wrong with that, willingness to, instead of struggle to bear the weight as my knees buckle beneath me, be carried. My prayer life has been stretched thin as I desperately search for strength, not even for myself, but for my family and those who are also grieving the loss of my mom, all while I have lost sight of the truth in where strength lays; the foot of the cross, where pride is replaced with humility, and with humility comes honesty, and with honesty comes willingness, and with willingness comes obedience, and with obedience comes resilience, and with resilience comes strength, and where strength lays, there is victory. I have not by any means attained or am already perfected, but I continue to press on towards Jesus (Philippians 3:12), where victory begins. Jesus is where healing begins.

My mom was my biggest cheerleader. Even when she didn’t agree with my attitude or choices (and trust me, she made her opinion well known), she was always quietly cheering me on from the sidelines, hoping that someday I would find my way, and I did. The day she passed away was the day I chose life four years previous; a life without drugs, a life without societal labels and statistics, a life of freedom. I will never know how many times she forfeited her own instincts to allow me to fall in order to find my own way, but I’m glad she did because, at the end of the day, I know she was cheering me on from the backfield. And if one thing is for certain, I am who I am today because of her (and Jesus).

I am firm in my belief that my mom is with our Savior, forever praising and worshipping Christ for all eternity, and my heart waits in anticipation to stand alongside her once again in perfect harmony before our Lord. Until that time, my heart continues to pick up it’s shattered pieces of what once was whole. I press into my constant through it all; my comforter, my refuge, my strength, my Jesus.

Alyssa Kristine About Alyssa Kristine

Redeemed from childhood dysfunction and drug addicted and homeless teen years, Alyssa is winging adulthood with discernment of faith and striving for nothing less than the standard Christ created. She believes that the beauty of the cross is found in the broken pieces of life that are molded together into an astonishing sum of crimson stained grace and mercy.


  1. I prayed for you today, Alyssa. May God bless you as you work your way through these hard times. I have lost loved ones, too, and I know it isn’t easy, but in spite of all the words that might seem meaningless to you when people are trying to comfort you, there is one constant fact: God is real and His comfort is the one you can depend on.

  2. Laurie Driesen says:

    Thank you Alyssa, for sharing your heart, soul and pain with us. You articulated it so beautifully. I prayed for you when your Mom died and now I will continue to pray for your heart to heal. It does get better- in the sense that life forges on and the pain goes away as it becomes more of a reality. God certainly takes the sting away by the hope He gives us! By the way, I’ve often thought that for our loved ones in Heaven, it must only take a moment for them to be with us again as there is no time in Heaven.

  3. Tina Dorward says:

    Beautifully written Alyssa and thank you for sharing your heart and your hope. I’m glad to hear about your recovery from drugs and will continue for God’s strength to remain clean and God’s comfort as you continue to heal. ????

  4. Go gently in your grief. Pause. Do not rush.

  5. Precious post Alyssa I feel your pain

  6. What a beautiful, touching post, Alyssa. Thank you for your transparency. I’ve known your pain first hand . . . five times in the last fifteen years. It does get better, I promise. My heart and prayers go out to and for you.

  7. Beautiful post, and honest. Thank you. I will share this with a friend who lost her husband today.

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