Healing from Grief, Loss, & Tragedy
The death of a sibling. A natural disaster. A miscarriage. We are never prepared for tragedy, so how do we begin to move forward to pick up the pieces?
Trauma and loss are inevitable. It is something that we all know will at some point happen, but yet we are rarely prepared for the reality that it will in some shape or form happen to us. When we see friends (or strangers) that go through tragedy, it’s easy to dismiss it and choose to deny our own mortality and the fragility of life. When it happens to you, you no longer have the privilege of this denial, because your life is forever changed.
This blog contains three stories of recent tragedies that have marked our lives forever. Our hope in writing out our stories of grief is that healing will come. It is vulnerable, hard, raw, and painful to sit down and put words to wordless tragedies. Our hope is that through reading these stories, you will find hope and understanding for those going through heartache — and if you yourself are experiencing a familiar pain, that you would know that
We are with you.
We are with you.
We are with you.
A moment of tragedy—What Happened:
KRISTINE:
It was 4 in the morning when I woke up, groggy and feeling strange. As I looked around my house, I realized it felt much darker than usual and the smell of smoke surrounded me. I woke my husband up, trying not to panic, thinking I must be overreacting.
The night before, Drew and I had learned of a wildfire being fought by firefighters miles away from us in a national park. While it was eery to see the horizon filled with smoke, we took solace in knowing that it was miles and miles away. We would be fine. We would be safe.
We weren’t.
Drew and I tried to turn on the lights. The power was out. He went outside to check on things, and when he came back inside I began to feel nervous because of how silent he was being. He researched where the fire was, and found out that our area was under evacuation.
I’ll never forget the moment when my husband, who is normally cool and collected, looked at me with fear in his eyes and said, “I think we have to get out of here.”
We held each other in our living room for a moment, both in total shock and disbelief.
It was the last time we would ever be inside that room.
The next hour was a blur as we ran through our house with flashlights in hand, trying to pick out the items we could not live without. Thankfully, because we travel often, important items like passports and other documents were easy to find and not left behind. What did not come as easily was having to choose what few objects from my house would be coming with us. I took our wedding vows and beaded necklaces we were given on our honeymoon from Hawaii. I took some sentimental photos and art pieces off the wall. We took some clothes. We brought our dog and our cat.
Then, just like that, we left our house. We didn’t know at the time that we would never step foot inside our beautiful home again.
We were evacuated and forced to leave the city while we waited to hear any news on our house. The first few days while we waited were a total blur. Before this, I hadn’t known anyone who had experienced losing their home to a natural disaster. It was such a distant reality to me, a thing I saw occasionally on the news. It wasn’t immediately apparent whether or not our home was still standing, and as we waited to learn anything I was in complete denial. Waves of fear would hit me where I would get nervous, but I kept telling myself that there was just no way something like this could happen to us.
I remember Drew breaking the news to me—a picture had been sent to him, confirming that our house was gone. Just like that, my shield of denial was swept away. My despair came in a wave I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, and the cruel reality hit me that we had lost our home and all of the memories inside of it. My body collapsed inside the car as I began to wail, and Drew held me as I asked over and over again, “Are they sure? Are they sure?”
As I stared at the picture of the ruined remains of what was once my house, my mind could not grasp that this was once my beautiful mountainside property. I immediately called my parents to let them know, and as soon as my mom answered I wept on the phone and bitterly yelled “Oh God, why me? Why me?”
In that moment life as I knew it had been completely wrecked.
FINA:
Our miscarriage came by surprise, which I guess is true for most miscarriages. We were in Ohio, visiting our family and sharing the good news of our new addition. We were excited, and I was counting down the days to finally share it with the rest of the world. Then, I started bleeding.
It wasn’t much, nothing painful, but it startled me. We went to the hospital and were told that the baby was still there, but the heartbeat was slowly decreasing. I didn’t lose hope. I held on to the love that was birthed in my heart from the day I found out about our pregnancy.
When we finally returned to Florida, we were given the news at a doctor’s appointment in an incredibly blunt way. I was shocked. I cried, and cried….and cried.
Then, my body began to ache. I had released a cyst and a baby at the same time, yet the swollen stomach and symptoms were there to remind me of what was just there a few days ago. I couldn’t put my emotions in print even if I tried. At the moment, all my body could do was produce tears.
The most painful thing about the loss was how we were told, and how there was no “physical” baby to lay down to rest. We hit 12 weeks the day they told us our baby had passed. 12 weeks, that’s 3 months! My body had been changing, hormones were all over the place, and then it all just stopped. I struggled for months juggling grief and learning to process everything because it was so sudden, so unexpected, and the very thing I feared.
RACHEL:
I was working at a youth drop-in center, and usually got off work late. As I was leaving, I looked down at my phone and saw that I had two missed calls from my mom and a text saying “Call ASAP”.
I called her as I was walking into my apartment, and as soon as my mom answered I could tell something was wrong. She told me that I needed to get to their house, and then after a moment’s pause, said this sentence:
“Hannah is dead.”
My vision went blurry. I was confused. All I could say was the simple word: “What?” My mom repeated herself, and I told her I was coming over immediately.
I hung up the phone, and fell on the floor. I took my coat off, tried calling my husband Nathan, but didn’t get through.
I walked out of my apartment and into the rain, calling him over and over. I then called two people I knew he was with, and got no answer there either. At this point I was scream-crying.
I eventually got ahold of him, and he came to get me, picking me up on the side of the road. I realized then that I was scared to go to my parent’s house. I didn’t want to accept or take in what was happening.
When we got to my parent’s house the police were there. They explained what happened: My sister had gotten into a car accident. I hugged my parents and watched as, slowly, family members and friends came to the house to just be there.
I remember going home that night and being so exhausted, but I woke up at 4 in the morning desperate that this had all been a nightmare.
It wasn’t.
I couldn’t breathe, and didn’t go back to sleep for a long while. The tightness in my chest would become my new normal as I grew accustomed to my new reality over the weeks that following the event.
What has it been like to grieve?
FINA: The grieving process has been exactly what it’s called, a process. Some days I fully accept the loss, then other days I’m immediately triggered. Some days I’m dancing with hope and some days I’m honestly dancing with anger.
I’ve been spending a lot of time diving into the grieving process and learning to walk through these emotions because, honestly, the only way forward is to walk through it.
KRISTINE: While at first I experienced tremendous denial, after it wore off I too have found that every day has been so different. Some days I’m emotional, other days I’m depressed, and other days everything seems completely fine. What has surprised me most is how much my body has responded to this trauma. Most nights my stomach is in knots and my body is extremely aching as if I’ve been in a physical fight. It’s as if my body has not caught up with the reality that I am safe and not in danger. Grieving has been painful, emotionally, spiritually, and for me physically. Through this process, I have been trying to allow myself to feel all of these feelings as they come, and to be kind and patient to myself in the middle of it all.
RACHEL: Grief is a journey that I can say I really did not understand until now. At first I was always processing my grief through tears, but there came a point where I didn’t think I could physically cry any more. Exhaustion is one of the biggest ways I have experienced grief, I am just now (8 months later) starting to feel like I have the energy to do simple things like exercise in the mornings. This has been difficult for me — I have gotten angry with myself for being so tired and feeling like I am just using grief as an excuse not to do activities.
Talking about my experiences with some friends and a grief counsellor has been helpful. I have also worked on practicing positive self-talk in this time. Whenever I think about not exercising and gaining weight I have tried to meet those thoughts with a reminder of how strong I have been, how great I am doing at being productive in my life, and how I have been present in my friends and family’s lives. If I need to physically rest, I think, that is okay.
After the accident I tried going back to work after two or three weeks and found I couldn’t last full days. I would get to work, start crying, and have to leave, so I took an extended break. Taking that time off to sleep, visit friends, and focus on my grief was really helpful to me. It helped me in my process.
At this point, I can talk about what happened and acknowledge that it has been hard, but once I start talking about the details I start crying. This tells me that I am still grieving, and that when I feel ready, doing some more counseling or other therapeutic activities will benefit me in my process.
What kindness have you experienced through this?
FINA: In the beginning, Jay and I kept our loss to ourselves and the few people who already knew about it. I was very fearful of the anxiety that would come after sharing, so I decided to just hold everything in. I’m pretty private when it comes to our relationship, but as months flew by I felt the conviction of sharing my truth and my story. Through this I met an amazing friend named Alex. Alex had walked through miscarriage herself, and at the point had just found out about her rainbow baby (a child born after a miscarriage). At one point Alex sent me a care package full of things she knew I would love like handmade paper, calligraphy inks, and a little rainbow that I placed in our bedroom. The thought and effort she put behind this package meant to much to me. It was like God sent her to just hold me as I walked through this hardship.
KRISTINE: While a lot of people donated money or gift cards and were incredibly generous to us during this time, the things which made me feel most cared for were when people took the initiative to care for us in practical ways. Many people asked us if there were ways they could help, and while they were so sincere in asking, I had no idea how to respond! I had no clue what I needed, let alone what I might want. One of the biggest kindnesses came from our friends who opened up their home to us. They not only gave us a space to stay, they gave us *their* space, giving us their own bedroom and bathroom and preparing it making us a gift basket with practical items and toys for our dog. I also had a friend who knew I loved shoes and had lost my beautiful collection of shoes in the fire. She took the initiative to surprise me with some shoes that she knew I loved. The times in which I truly felt valued and known were the times when people wouldn’t ask me questions, but simply acknowledge how horrible my experience was and say something along the lines of “This really sucks. I’m so sorry,” and when other friends sent encouraging texts with “don’t feel like you need to respond, just want you to know I’m with you.” Having people take the pressure off of me was immensely helpful.
RACHEL: People have been so kind to both me and my family throughout this time. From the moment people started finding out about what happened, friends have dropping by with food, sent flowers, and more. Our living room looked like a flower shop! I received so many beautiful messages and gifts. People have been patient with me and given genuine care. When people didn’t know what to say or how to show support, I knew that they meant what they were saying and that everyone who reached out was doing so purely out of love.
I received a few necklaces representing Hannah, and I wear them on rotation every day! One friend flew from Montana to be with me at the funeral and another friend flew from New Jersey to spend time with me after the fact. People went out of their way, and the compassion was not lost on me. It was what got me through the first few months.
Recently, a friend messaged me and told me that she had lost her own brother eight years before, and wanted to let me know that she was checking in. She talked about feeling like people started to move on around her, and didn’t want me to feel the same way. This was so thoughtful to me because I realized that there are people who are still thinking of me, still wanting to be there for me, and it made me understand that grief and loss are a lifelong thing.
What was unhelpful during this process?
KRISTINE: Seeing people for the first time after losing our home always felt really awkward. There was this big elephant in the room and nobody knew how to address it. You could sense the tension, and being both an empath and an introvert, that tension was painful — but even more painful were a lot of the questions that people asked.
I was tender and in the middle of my process, and the last thing I felt like doing was answering a bunch of detailed questions about the experience to people I barely knew. At times it felt as though I was being interrogated for a crime I didn’t commit. I could always tell when people were checking in because they genuinely cared, or were asking at best to be polite and at worst to be nosy.
Though so many people were incredible by donating financially or giving us gift cards, I was surprised by how many people offered to give me their used clothes. While I recognize that people were trying to be so nice and generous, it was uncomfortable to be offered hand-me-downs from people’s closets. When people offered me their clothes it felt humiliating and like a cop out. It was a reminder that I had lost it all of my favorite pieces and had nothing to my name. I didn’t want their clothes, I wanted MY clothes and its easier to offer something they no longer wanted than to actually find out what my immediate needs were and buy something that would love— so saldy the offer felt more painful rather than helpful.
RACHEL: Something I have learned through this experience is that some people are weird! Some people just do not know how to take on other people’s emotions or even validate them. Sometimes, people would try to relate to my experience by talking about the death of a grandparent. I understand that a way of relating to others is through shared experiences, but this felt really minimizing to me. Losing someone who has lived a full life is not the same as the sudden tragic loss of a young sibling. I understand the intention, but it really just made me mad.
That being said, I have a few friends who never reached out to me at all, which has hurt more. I have tried to mitigate this feeling by reminding myself how amazing so many people have been to me, but there is a small part of my mind and heart that remains confused and hurt by a some people’s actions.
KRISTINE: I was also surprised by some of the people who reached out and chose not to reach out. There’s leaders I have known for years and who personally mentored me who couldn’t even be bothered to shoot a text. That hurt. There was also someone who I am not friends with and hadn’t spoken to in years how chose to reach out and send a wildly insincere text. I found it shocking and disappointing that the wrong people reached out and the right ones were silent. I was also hurt by the bad advice people gave. People trying to be positive would say dub things like “God is upgrading you!” or “ It’s all Gods plan.” Hearing this was just as much offensive as it was hurtful.
FINA: As I began to open up about our story, it was hard to hear some of the things people would say. I know that a lot of times as believers we tend to “over-spiritualize” things, and though I know people weren’t deliberately trying to hurt me, reading me a bible verse and then saying “It just wasn’t God’s timing” was hard to hear. I understand some of the meaning behind that, but at the same time I don’t understand why people would rely on this statement to ‘console’ me. At the moment of grief and loss, there were so many questions I had, but at the same time, those questions were things I had to work through. “God’s timing” doesn’t automatically aid the pain and make things better.
RACHEL: When I see posts about ‘God’s perfect timing’ and how faithful he is or how in control he is, I just think that those people have no clue what they’re talking about. This was not perfect timing, this was not God’s intention for my sister. This was not God’s intention for my life.
What’s been particularly painful?
KRISTINE: The most painful thing about my loss was how shocking it was. It was so cruel and so unexpected. As I have begun to process the trauma of loosing my home, I was surprised how much this experience triggered past trauma. I believe this is because a home is meant to represent an ideal safe space, and to see it destroyed feels so brutally wrong.
My husband and I both care deeply about creating a place that feels homey, cozy, beautiful, excellent, and is welcoming to any person who steps inside. To have that space which we loved and created systematically destroyed piece by piece is devastating and violating in so many ways — in the different, but familiar ways to the sexual abuse that I have experienced.
It has also been painful to be trying to try to be living out a normal day only for it to be ruined in an instant. It can be something as simple as driving down the road in a great mood, listening to my favorite song and suddenly seeing a sweet sign thanking firefighters for all they have done. Suddenly my mood is wrecked. This sign is a reminder that life as I knew it has been destroyed and there’s nothing I do can bring it back.
RACHEL: For me, so much has been painful. First the reality that Hannah was gone was so painful. It just did not fit into my world. I read a quote about losing a sibling that said this:
“Losing a parent is like losing the past, losing a child is like losing the future, and losing a sibling is like losing both the past and the future at once.” This has really resonated with me because I have had to grieve all of our memories together and grieve the future I imagined that we would have.
It has been painful wishing I had been a better sister to her. It has been painful listening to people talk about their siblings and the experiences they are having with them. It has been painful watching my parents go through this loss. It was painful seeing her body. It was painful burying her ashes.
Loss is painful. Grief is painful.
What would you like to say to someone going through their own story of grief?
KRISTINE: This one is a rough one for me, because I’m still very much in my own process. When I experience change of any capacity the way I tend to self soothe is food. As a recovering bulimic, I have a dangerous relationship with food where I can very easily trick myself into believing food is the answer to my sadness. I mean let’s be real, I have never eaten a brownie I did not love! More than enjoying my brownie, it always bring a sense of control and instant relief. The problem with a food addict is that one brownie is never enough, I need all of the brownies — and after I have eaten all of the brownies I suddenly need to counter that taste of a sweet desert with a savory, cheesy pizza. See how I can get myself in trouble? Before I know it I’ve stuffed myself and am so full, and feel so horrible and hating myself for being so fat and desiring to make myself purge to get it all out. Just like that, I have punished my body. During this time of loss I have had to keep myself very accountable about my food and maintain a pretty intentional food plan to ensure that I wont hurt my body during this time it has already been through so much.
I am practicing what it means to be kind to my traumatized and healing body.
Being kind means eating majority paleo for me, it means stretching throughout the day, it means scattering multiple diffusers around my house to breathe in amazing smelling oils throughout the day. I am learning to initiate kindness to myself and would beg you to do the same. The trauma has already done enough to your body, please be so kind to yourself. There’s no timeline on how to heal from any tragedy. Each persons personality, relationships, culture, context etc all play a factor on how we heal from pain. We must be patient and be ok with taking things slow. Day by day, even hour by hour. Yell at God, avoid Him, weep with Him. Whatever you need, prioritize yourself and be honest to where you’re at in your process.
RACHEL: No one is an expert on grief. Each experience is unique.
I also want people to know that if you come from a Christian or religious background, sometimes there is an expectation to be full of faith in a time of grief.
It is okay if you feel like you have no faith. I have felt like that for months now.
I haven’t felt comfort going to church and I don’t want to listen to Christian music. That is okay! I want to share this because, again, I imagine I am not the first person to feel like this in grief and I want other people to feel like they can talk about that. I am trusting that if God is real, I will find comfort in that again, but I am ok with taking a step back and going slow. I want other people to feel like they can be honest about what they are really feeling instead of giving stock answers to keep up appearances. I am not uncomfortable with my journey and I don’t think others should be uncomfortable with that honesty.
In addition to that, I would advise people experiencing grief to avoid substances. I decided to go a few months without having any alcohol afterwards because I was scared what that would release in me. My dad’s birthday was in May, a few months later, and I thought I would be fine having a few margaritas — this was not the case. I became so emotional and cried a lot at the end of the night. This told me that I still have so much grieving to go through that I need to be in as healthy of a mindset as possible to do so. I had a teacher in college who said that alcohol should be used when celebrating and I have always remembered that. I say this because I imagine I am not alone in this experience and other people might go through this in grief. I think trying to escape the pain or continue with life too quickly can be detrimental to our healing.
FINA: Grief is a process. A long one. It has no timeline. There are no promises of complete healing because the truth is, you are entering a new world. A world where you accept the loss and begin this new life after loss.
Take your time. Be gentle with yourself. Honor your grief. And take time to write those emotions down. Only God knows why we go through what we go through. But we have the opportunity to grow from this.
Is it easy? No. Is it something I’d want to walk through again? Heeeeck no. But it’s brought me to a place that I’ve never been in before. It’s opened my eyes to being compassionate and understanding to those who have experienced loss.
Don’t give up. Your rainbow will soon come.
Meet the Writers
Kristine Coffman
Kristine and her husband and lost their home to a wildfire.
Kristine works for Bethel church and she leads outreaches to women who have been sex trafficked.
She is constanly exploring a new city with her husband Drew, writing music, or learning about trauma and how to engage her own stories of heartache. Most days you can find her at the dog park with her little pit mix or enjoying a cup of coffee at her new coffee shop.
Rachel Chen-Mack
Rachel’s sister Hannah passed away in a car accident.
Rachel is 26 years old, living in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada with her husband Nathan. Rachel is currently working as a Child Protection Social Worker.
In her down time Rachel likes adventuring with Nathan, going on weekend getaways and trying new restaurants. Rachel’s guilty pleasure is reality TV, although she does not feel guilty about that at all.
Josefina Herrera Sanders
Fina and her husband lost their first baby.
Josefina Herrera-Sanders is a creative freelancer living and working from Tampa, Florida.
She’s a devoted Christ follower, wife, artist, writer, speaker, advocate, and social influencer. Her life’s work is to create fearlessly, cultivate community, and celebrate the journey of life.
In other words : Josefina aspires to inspire people to live intentionally, love others, and serve well through powerful words and visuals.
Thank you for taking the time to read our stories. If you’ve read through this, we would love to hear from you. Your story matters just as much as ours.
What has your unexpected story of tragedy been? Can you relate to any/all of these stories? How have you found ways to cope through your pain?
