People who haven’t walked this road sometimes ask me how I’m doing with a hopeful look in their eyes — like maybe enough time has passed that I have a tidy answer for them.
I don’t.
Sixteen months ago, I lost my daughter Samantha. She was 26 years old. And if you’re reading this in the early weeks or months of your own loss, I want to give you the most honest thing I have: I am still in it. Some days are good. Some days still knock me to my knees without warning. And somehow — in ways I cannot fully explain — God is doing something in me through all of it.
This is what grief actually looks like at 16 months.
The Waves Are Still Coming
I won’t insult you by telling you it gets easier in a neat, predictable way. One of the things that has surprised me most about this season is how unpredictable the waves still are. I can have three beautiful days — days where I laugh, where I feel the sun on my face, where I sense God’s presence close — and then a song comes on the radio, or I see a young woman with her mother at the grocery store, and I am undone.
Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It doesn’t respect your plans or your progress.
The psalmist knew this feeling. David cried out in Psalm 13:1-2, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”
If you’ve whispered something like that into the dark, you are in good company. That is not a lack of faith. That is an honest heart before a God who can handle every word of it.
What I Didn’t Expect
I expected the grief. I did not expect the growth.
I want to be very careful here, because I am not saying that losing Samantha was good, or that the pain is worth it, or any of the things that can feel so hollow when someone says them to you. What I am saying is that God — in His faithfulness that I do not always understand — has been meeting me in the deepest, darkest places of this journey and doing something in my soul that I cannot take credit for.
My faith is not the same as it was 16 months ago. It is quieter. It is less certain about easy answers. And it is more rooted than it has ever been.
Romans 5:3-4 says that “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” I used to read that verse and nod politely. Now I read it and I weep — because I have lived it. Not because I am strong, but because He is.
To the Mom Who Is Two or Three Months In
If that’s you — if you are still in the place where getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain, where you check your phone and remember all over again, where you cannot imagine ever feeling anything other than this — I want you to hear me.
You will survive this.
Not because you are strong enough. Not because the pain will disappear. But because the God who “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds” (Psalm 147:3) has not looked away from you for a single moment. He was there the day you got the news that shattered your world. He is there in the 3 a.m. hours when the silence is unbearable. And He will be there at month 16, and beyond.
I am proof that you can still be standing. Still be breathing. Still be finding moments of unexpected grace in the middle of a grief that has no clean ending.
What I’m Learning
I’m learning that survival is not something I earned. It is something I received — one grace-covered day at a time.
I’m learning that Samantha’s life mattered deeply, and that honoring her means I keep going.
And I’m learning that God does not waste our pain. Even when I cannot see what He is doing, I am choosing — sometimes moment by moment — to trust that He is doing something.
Isaiah 43:2 promises: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”
He didn’t say the waters wouldn’t come. He said He would be in them with us.
Sixteen months in, I am still in the water. But I am not drowning.
And sweet mom — neither will you.
If you are walking this road and you need someone who understands, I’d love to connect with you. This ministry exists because no mother should have to walk this alone.
You Don’t Have to Walk This Alone
If this post resonated with you, I want you to know there is more support waiting for you.
🎙️ Listen to Testimony Through Tears — my podcast where grieving moms share the raw, real, and redemptive stories of how God is meeting them in their loss. These are voices that understand yours. You can find it wherever you listen to podcasts.
📖 Explore the Bible Studies — I have created studies specifically for moms who are walking this road, designed to walk you through grief with Scripture as your guide. Not to rush your healing. Not to give you easy answers. But to place God’s Word gently in your hands for every hard season of this journey. Visit [your website] to learn more.
Sweet mom — you were not meant to carry this alone. There is a community of women who understand, a God who is near, and a next step waiting for you whenever you are ready.
No pressure. No timeline. Just an open door.
