Do We Ever Stop Grieving? A Hopeful Perspective

by Lois Flowers

Inside: How we talk and think about grief can affect our ability to move through it in a healthy way. Here are a few truths to counteract one unhelpful statement you may have heard. ~

Since my parents died in 2019, I’ve read a lot about grief and grieving relating to the death of a loved one. More in the early days of my family’s loss, when my sorrow was fresh and exhausting, but also in recent days.

A phrase I don’t recall reading initially that I’ve noticed lately is this:

“You will never stop grieving.”

I’ve seen it in books and on Instagram, by authors and “grief influencers” (for lack of a better term). While correctly and kindly acknowledging how hard and sad the loss of a loved one is, they also assert that grief changes over time but will never go away.

Perhaps this is where they are themselves—unable to imagine not feeling the heaviness of grief, and maybe not even wanting to let it go. Sometimes, grief is almost like a warm cloak; as long as we’re feeling bad, we think, we’re keeping the memories of our loved one alive.

I Understand This

And yet, I also believe the terminology we assign to unavoidable life events and processes can affect our ability to move through them in a healthy way.

Some cases of heartbreak are so profound that a person’s grief never goes away. The loss of child, or a dearly loved spouse after many decades of marriage, could result in such never-ending sorrow.

I don’t think, however, that grieving people should be told to expect this. Neither does author Randy Alcorn, who often writes about losing his wife, Nanci, in 2022.

“God knows we need a season of grief. But a season is not a lifetime,” he said in a blog post titled Healthy Grief is Centered on God’s Promises. “He intends that we would also smile and laugh and dance again. There is no set timetable, but God wants us to find relief in Him.”

Joy and Sorrow Co-exist

Abundant life exists after grief, in other words. If you are deep in the mire of grief today, you will not always feel how you are feeling. Over time, you may begin to see that joy and sorrow co-exist—that you can experience both happiness and sadness at the same time—and that this is OK.

Or perhaps what you used to call grief may morph into missing.

Sad thoughts and memories come and go. You will always miss that person you loved so much, at some times more than others.

But missing isn’t grieving. Missing is remembering. Missing is reality. Missing is a fact of life.

When the Grief Softens

I attended a GriefShare group the fall after my parents died. I don’t remember most of the material presented each week, but something the facilitator said made a deep impression on my shellshocked heart. “As the grief softens,” she said, “the memories grow warmer.”

As I trudged my way through sadness tinged with regret, unanswerable questions and loneliness, I discovered she was right. The grief did soften, and the memories did become warmer.

This doesn’t happen with every loss, of course. When memories trigger sadness instead of warm thoughts, it helps to intentionally notice how God has carried us through those hard times. And to remember that with every day that passes, we are one day closer to being reunited with our loved ones in heaven.

Ongoing Effort Required

Whether memories become warmer or not, instant gratification is nowhere to be found on this journey. It takes effort to move through active grief—effort that is ongoing, but also worth noticing and perhaps even celebrating.

Here’s how my friend Linda puts it in a Substack post called A Sunrise, the Grief Group & and a Whole Bunch of Helpful Resources:

“My hat’s off,” she writes, “to all of us who do the hard work of rolling up our sleeves and walking up and down sorrow’s hills and valleys. … Who have no interest in believing that there’s a 1-2-3 checklist or some kind of magic wand that’ll wave away their grief. Who stubbornly refuse to be defined by what we’ve lost.”

She continues: “Yes, it is possible and very much preferable to purposefully shed the worn and tattered garment of sadness and re-define ourselves by His joy. His peace. And all the good things the Holy Spirit originally gifted us with at our spiritual birth through Jesus Christ.”

A Gentle Suggestion

Dear reader, if you are regularly reading or listening to people who make statements like, “You’ll never stop grieving,” I have one gentle suggestion: You might want to find encouragement elsewhere.

Talk to actual people in your life who have experienced grief but haven’t let it define them. Read books by Randy Alcorn, Jerry Sitser and others who have had many years to reflect on grief through the lens of God’s faithfulness.

Most of all, bring your sorrows to the Man of sorrows who is divinely acquainted with every aspect of your grief (Isaiah 53:3). He provides comfort and rest in our sadness, but, as Linda says, He also is “always and forever ready, willing, and able to use our healing experience to equip us to come alongside other hurting souls.”

• • •

Whenever I write about grief, I do so with the awareness that my experience is limited to a few very specific kinds of loss. I’d love to know how this process has played out in your life … please share in the comments if you are so inclined.

Also, if you have lost your mom or dad (or both), I have a collection of articles called Help for Parent Loss that you may find comforting or encouraging. Check it out here and consider sharing it with a friend who may also find it helpful.

Lois

Sad thoughts and memories come and go. You will always miss that person you loved so much, at some times more than others. But missing isn’t grieving. Missing is remembering. Share on X When memories trigger sadness instead of warm thoughts, it helps to intentionally notice how God has carried us through those hard times. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

Leave a Comment

16 comments

Carol February 28, 2025 - 12:22 pm

When our son passed away–36 years ago, writing became my outlet for grief. It was a way to process my feelings. In the Psalms and John 11 (death of Lazarus) I found my grief acknowledged. For two years I was working through grief and then I was able to move on. I also was able to see the ways that our son and our family were loved, by God and the believers that were in our life. And I grew closer to God.

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:56 am

I’m so sorry you had to experience the loss of your son, Carol. You’ve described so well what I discovered about writing through my parents’ last months and after they died. I was just reading some of those posts this morning and wondering how I even wrote those things at that time. What I realized was that there would be no way for me write it now, so I’m so glad I did then. What a blessing that you were able to grow closer to God through the process of mourning the loss of your son.

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Linda Stoll February 28, 2025 - 10:28 am

sending you love …

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:53 am

❤️❤️❤️

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Brian February 28, 2025 - 8:10 am

I lost my wife almost eight years ago now. We had been married for 42 years. The first couple of months were the worst. All – and I do mean ALL – I wanted to do was to go and be with her. I have children and grandchildren, but it didn’t matter that I would be leaving them behind. I wasn’t suicidal. I just wanted to be with my wife again.

I still wear my wedding ring. I still feel married to her, I always will. I have a real problem that there will be no marriage allowed in heaven. I want to be married to her forever.

The hardest time after she died was when I was driving and the passenger seat was empty. I felt her absence then more than at any other time, even though the house and my bed were empty without her.

But I know I’ll see her again. I took her funeral (I’m ordained) because I wanted to speak of her adequately, and I knew no-one else could speak of her as I could.

I still miss her, but I thank God I’ll see her again. You cannot appreciate the difference it made to her funeral service to know that I had led her to Christ before we married.

Going to finish now because I’m getting emotional. But it’s good to speak of her. Thank you.

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:52 am

Brian, thank you for sharing thoughts of your wife and your grief process. I’m so sorry for you loss. I’m glad you were able to do your wife’s funeral, and that you have the hope of seeing her again in heaven. My dad would say, “We’re Christians and we don’t believe death is the end.” What a glorious hope that is.

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Lisa Blair February 28, 2025 - 7:24 am

“Missing is remembering” without the sorrow, while grief has sorrow attached to it. I remember going through the same struggle, Lois. I even read a book called ‘Don’t Take My Grief Away,’ which attached the memory of the person to the grief and implied that if you processed through grief, you would lose the memory of the person. It took me a few months to realize this wasn’t the healthiest way to process and that my memories could be separated from the sorrow of grief.

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:47 am

Lisa, the book you describe sounds similar to some I have seen or read (or tried to read). Now that I think about it, the places I have seen this were not Christian accounts or books … the hope of heaven makes all the difference in the world, doesn’t it?

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Trudy February 26, 2025 - 2:51 pm

Thank you for this wise and compassionate insight, Lois. Love and blessings to you!

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:46 am

Thank YOU, Trudy. Happy first day of March, dear friend!

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Barbara Harper February 25, 2025 - 1:25 pm

I think this may be where some of my family members are: “as long as we’re feeling bad, we think, we’re keeping the memories of our loved one alive.” Since my parents both died in December (seven years apart), some of the family almost seems to feel guilty enjoying the season. My mom loved Christmas, and though she would want to be remembered, I think she would also want us to be happy.

Perhaps that’s what people mean when they say grief never ends–that we’ll always miss that person. But the statement does almost make us feel guilty if we don’t feel sad. And it makes the future look gloomy. Or they could mean that we’ll still be waylaid by grief even years later. Most of my grief has morphed into warm memories as you described, but every now and then a wave of grief will pass over unexpectedly.

I’ve read some of Randy Alcorn’s blog posts about his wife–they are very moving.

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:45 am

Barbara, I’m glad you are able to enjoy Christmas now, knowing that your mom would have wanted you to. I understand what you mean about those unexpected waves of grief. For me, and I suspect for you also, knowing that this happens from time to time helps ride it out when it does happen. I suppose this is a lesson we all need to learn about grief?

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Maryleigh February 25, 2025 - 12:44 pm

“Missing is remembering” – oh, how I miss those who have been such a part of my story. I miss the conversations – they were primary sources to my stories and stories of those who were before them. Knowing they are at the journey’s end makes a huge difference. I often think about mothers whose children came to America, or whose children went out west – never seeing their loved ones again. Those left behind had to continue living fully, choosing to live joy. I think that’s how I process my losses.

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:43 am

I miss the conversations too, Maryleigh. And that’s a great observation about mothers who never saw their loved ones again. I never really thought of it from that perspective, but you’re right … they had to make those decisions to choose life and joy too. Thanks so much for sharing your perspectives this week!

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Susan Sikes February 25, 2025 - 9:19 am

2019 is also the year we lost our son. I still miss him tremendously, but the Lord has been with us every moment! He gives us joy in the midst of loss. I’m not sure how anyone can get through even one day without Him! He’s so amazing!

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Lois Flowers March 1, 2025 - 11:39 am

Susan, I’m so sorry for the loss of your son. I’m thankful that you can trace God’s presence with you and are able to experience joy in the midst of your loss. Sending you a big hug today, friend!

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