Grief, My Unexpected Stranger From the pages of The Unexpected Stranger.
My Heavenly Father is God—and in His divine wisdom, He blessed me with an earthly father who shaped so much of who I am. I looked up to my dad more than anyone. He was everything I admired: witty with a razor-sharp sense of humor, always organized, quick on his feet, and a natural leader who commanded respect without ever raising his voice.
I watched him navigate life with grace under pressure, and I wanted to be just like him.
Though he had a few health scares over the years, God continued to cover him—blessing our family with more time, more laughter, more moments that now feel like sacred gifts.
In my heart, I believe those extra years were divine grace. They gave me the chance to watch him lead, love, and serve. And while I wasn’t ready to let him go, I rest in the truth that God never makes a mistake. He gave me a father I could be proud of—and now, memories I can hold on to forever.
I didn’t see grief coming. Sure, I knew my father’s health was fragile. But nothing prepares you for the moment you really have to say goodbye—especially knowing my parents had just moved from another state to live with my spouse and me. I trusted God to bring him through, as always. Grief didn’t knock. It barged in. Unannounced. Unapologetic. Unrelenting. One moment, I was balancing daily routines and making regular hospital visits—just doing what needed to be done. Then suddenly, Dad and I were faced with decisions no one ever wants to make. Heavy choices. Life-altering ones.
Then it happened… Losing my dad cracked something inside of me. The thought that I wouldn’t have my dad anymore was devastating. He was why I was here. I acted like him, looked like him, and our conversations? We could talk about anything. We understood each other in a way few people ever could. I was Daddy’s girl. And he knew it. There was an unspoken bond between us—one that time, distance, or even death couldn’t erase.
I was running on pure adrenaline, moving from one urgent matter to the next—funeral arrangements, repass planning, paperwork. But in the middle of it all, my heart ached most for Mom. She was shattered. He wasn’t just her husband—he was her world, her rhythm, her steady place. The love they shared was deep, unshakeable, and watching her grieve him was its own kind of pain. We both had to help each other get through it—day by day. And then there were my brothers. Watching them grieve was a different kind of heartbreak. As women, we often speak openly about our emotions, but men—especially sons—carry their pain differently. I saw it in their eyes, in the way they tried to stay strong for the family. But I know the loss of a father hits deep. For a son, losing his dad can feel like losing his example, his mirror, his blueprint. My brothers had to face the weight of becoming the kind of men our father raised them to be—without his physical presence to guide them. But I also saw resilience. I saw honor. I saw love that didn’t need to be loud to be real. But over time, grief softened. When memories came, I didn’t cry. They became cherished memories. It stopped screaming and started whispering. It reminded me of my dad’s favorite sayings. His quirks. The way he loved with few words but deep presence. Grief became the stranger that stayed. And strangely, it taught me more about love than loss. One pastor said to me, you will never get over it but you will learn to live with it!
If you’re walking through the shadow of grief today, know this:
Grief may change you, but it does not define you. The love you shared didn’t die—it lives on in how you remember, how you speak their name, how you keep moving forward with pieces of them still tucked inside your soul. There’s no timeline for healing. No perfect way to mourn. But one thing is certain—you are not alone. And neither is your love. 
This reflection is adapted from my book, The Unexpected Stranger. If this spoke to your heart, I’d love for you to read the full story here.
