Grief: A Personal Journey Through Loss, Healing, Resilience and Hope By Phyllis Snulligan Wilson
Grief is a journey; like most journeys, it's not linear. It's a winding road filled with sharp turns, bumps, steep hills, roundabouts, and occasional potholes. Sometimes, our path in life takes us to places that we're not prepared to go. In 2023, I found myself on a road I never imagined I'd travel so soon. It was a road that took me through the unimaginable losses of my husband, Barry, of 31 years (Jan. 10, 2023); my amazing dad, Jesse Snulligan (June 28, 2023); and my awesome only son, Shane (Nov. 21, 2023). At times, the depths of sorrow I experienced were so profound that it often felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Through it all, I have learned that grief is not just about loss; it's also about learning how to live again and finding relief and peace by relying on God for hope and strength. It's a time to trust that God is very close and has great compassion for us.
Grief is often explained through five stages, introduced by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in 1969. For me, these weren't actually stages because they did not come in any particular order. I would describe them as my feelings and how I acted on my feelings as I encountered these sometimes unpredictable and painful grief experiences.
Denial: In the early days after each of my losses, denial was one of my coping mechanisms, helping me to process my feelings of grief. It was as if I could hardly comprehend that these exceptional men who had been pillars of my world were truly gone. In each situation, the shock of their deaths left me somewhat numb. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my husband, my father, and my son were no longer here, sharing their love with me. Denial was a kind of protection.... a temporary buffer against a pain that was sporadically very difficult to face.
Anger: I can't say that I actually experienced anger, although as the days passed, the numbness faded, and an occasional storm would creep in. It all seemed unfair, and I would reminisce about life being the way it used to be. There were days that my heart ached with unanswered questions. I recall sitting at my desk one day, writing a letter to God and sharing my sorrow and pain. I also used scripture to write a response letter to me from God. I knew that God understood my emotions and wanted me to rely on Him. My faith was the source of my continued strength and peace.
Bargaining: I found myself praying in ways I had never done before. I wasn't ready to let go! There were so many things I wanted to say and things that I didn't get a chance to do with each of them before God called them home. "If only God had given me one more chance to laugh with them, to sit and talk with them, or just to say goodbye before they closed their eyes forever." The loss was so painful, but I knew that "this day too shall pass and that I will survive."
Depression: There were days that I found it very difficult to get out of bed, to move forward, or even to stay motivated. Sometimes, joy seemed like a distant memory. The absence of interacting with my loved ones created periodic sadness and an unexplainable comfort in being alone. I still cry from time to time; however, I know that my tears are not a sign of weakness or lack of faith, but they are God's gift to me as a way of expressing my pain and loss.
Acceptance: Acceptance didn't come all at once. It wasn't an "aha" moment where everything suddenly felt okay. Slowly, however, I started to come to terms uniquely with each of my losses. Grief isn't something one moves through quickly; it's a slow, relentless process. I carry it daily, adjusting, coping, and simply living with it. I had to feel the emotions and work through the loss at my own pace. There's no getting over the death of someone you love. Healing, in my experience, is about learning how to manage grief and learning how to live a life that's been irrevocably changed. God is my refuge and strength, and knowing that my heavenly father will never abandon me is what continues to keep me strong. One of the most essential parts of my healing is knowing that I don't have to be "okay" all the time. It's not pretending that the pain is not there. Healing comes when we allow ourselves to feel, cry, rest, and be kind to ourselves.
During my grief, I asked God questions that I had never dared to ask before. "How can I move forward without my dad, Barry, and Shane, who were such a profound part of my life?" "What happens after death?” “God, scripture tells us that you heal the broken hearted…but my wound still feels so fresh.” I know it's ok to ask questions and to wrestle with doubt and pain. In the Bible, both Job and David questioned God's plans for them in the face of overwhelming loss. Through their questions, they also found that God's presence was never far away. In my own journey, I find solace in Psalm 34:18, "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." I find comfort in the reminder that God is with us in valley experiences, even when it feels like we are walking alone. In those quiet moments when I'm grieving, I turn to scripture. I hold on to verses that remind me of God's presence and love. Romans 8:28 became my lifeline...."And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him and who have been called according to His purpose." Even in the dark moments of grief, this verse reminds me that God doesn't waste pain. He redeems it, and there's restoration even in the most profound suffering. The comfort that I received in my deepest grief wasn't just for me, but for me to share, comfort, and bless others who are also hurting. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 "Praise be to God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. "
In grief, I learned how crucial it is to take care of myself. It's easy to lose oneself in pain and to neglect our needs. I started prioritizing small things that brought me peace: hot bubble baths, scrapbooking, playing chess, watching good movies, taking classes at the senior education center, journaling, and traveling. I would fondly reflect on the relationships with each of them, remembering the positives and negatives of our experiences together. I sought individual therapy, joined a “Grief Share” class, and leaned on true friends and family, including my daughter (Jessica) and my two sisters (Marsha and Danita), who supported and encouraged me. Most importantly, I gave myself permission to rest when I needed to sleep - both physically and emotionally. I learned to be patient with myself and to look for courage, resiliency, and hope. I am leaning on four of my close friends who have also lost their sons. They, too, are travelling on a grief journey. When the men in my life went to be with the Lord, I wasn't the only one grieving. I am a part of a very close, loving family, and I know that my other family members also experienced the grief and loss of a husband, brother, father, grandfather, nephew, uncle, and brother-in-law.
One of the most important things that I have learned in this journey of grief is that even in the darkest moments, there’s always hope, and there's always light. For me, resilience doesn't mean that I don't feel pain; it means that I find a way to keep moving forward despite the pain. It means finding strength in the love that remains, in the memories that can never be taken away, and in the quiet courage to face another day. Healing takes time, and I am still healing and moving through the process, but I have hope in the form of memories, in the form of scripture, and in the form of love that doesn't end with death. I know that resilience isn't about denying my grief; it's about learning to live with it, to carry it, and to find meaning and purpose in my life continuously.
Grief can be a heavyweight, but it's not the end of the story. It's simply one chapter in a life filled with both joy and sorrow. And through it all, I hold on to the hope that healing will continue to come even if, at times, it's slow, painful, and feels like a battle. I know that God has great compassion for us and wants us to have peace and joy. With God's strength and love for me, as well as the help and support of my loving family and friends, I will continue to find my way forward and one day be reunited with my loved ones.
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