When Grief and Grace Collide

Grief is such a tricky thing.

This time of year always feels a little heavier for me. Father’s Day. My dad’s birthday. The anniversary of his passing. All of it lands within the summer months, and every year, without fail, I feel the weight a little more.

I was six years old when my dad passed away. He was older, had been sick for some time, and eventually, he just couldn’t get better. I remember the day so vividly. Back then, we had a house phone mounted to the wall, and since my dad was a double leg amputee, it was usually us kids who answered when it would ring. That morning, my mom called from work to check in. She asked to talk to my dad, but he told us he was too sick to come to the phone. My mom knew immediately—something wasn’t right.

The paramedics showed up not long after. I remember standing at our front door, watching them rush inside. Our neighbor came over to help get my siblings and me ready for school. As we were being loaded into the car, I looked back and saw my dad on the gurney being placed into the ambulance.

That was the last time I ever saw my dad alive.

It’s been 23 years since that day. And still, grief has a way of finding me—especially in seasons like this.

Sometimes the sadness is about losing him. Sometimes it’s about not getting to know him better, not having him around for the big milestones, the hard moments, or just everyday life. I would give anything to have him back. I know my life would look radically different if he were still here, but to have my dad in it? That feels worth it.

And yet—there’s grace in my grief.

Because even though I lost my earthly father at such a young age, I’ve come to know my Heavenly Father in a way I may not have otherwise. I’ve experienced the deep comfort of a Father who never leaves. I’ve known the steadiness of God when everything else feels uncertain.

Psalm 68:5 calls God “a father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling.” That verse has become more than words to me—it’s been my reality.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve had to wrestle with the tension of longing for the things I missed because of my dad’s absence, while also being grateful for the closeness I’ve found with the Lord in the midst of that loss. And what I’ve noticed is this: the more I lean into that truth, the less defined I feel by my grief.

Don’t get me wrong—grief still comes in waves. It always will. But it doesn’t consume me the way it used to.

Because even in my sadness, I’ve found purpose.
Even in my loss, I’ve found love.
Even in my questions, I’ve found peace.

And that kind of hope can only come from the Father who has never left my side.

Romans 8:28 reminds us, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Even in grief, God is working for our good—drawing us closer, refining us, and reminding us of His unchanging love.