Don’t Go to Target with a Broken Heart (& other thoughts on grief)



Don’t go to Target with a broken heart. You’ll walk out having spent 200 and some-odd dollars on a cartfull of random trinkets you’d no idea you “needed.”

My beloved grandfather passed away last week, and even though he’s been slowly slipping away for some time the finality of his death still turned our lives upside down and has wrung us with grief. It’s just so FINAL (this side of heaven) and I miss him already.

Now, in mourning, we’re painstakingly sifting through a whole universe of photographs (15 hours Saturday alone) in order to assemble a memorial slideshow befitting of a great, godly man. Condensing an entire life into a five minute montage seems a herculean task– and a touch trite.

My family’s no stranger to grief– three years ago we lost my grandma and Husband’s grandpa within a month of each other, a mere six months after losing a bonus grandma/aunt. Two years ago we lost my brother-in-law’s younger brother. Cancer took Husband’s vibrant young cousin. Last summer our girls lost one of their best friends and, of course, we continue to grieve our third daughter who was stillborn eleven years ago. Loss is just hard.

A dear friend who’s lost more than her fair share of loved ones passed along Ann Voskamp’s sage words, in sympathy: “I watch the hands move grace on the clock face. I’m growing older. These children growing up. But time is not running out. This day is not a sieve, losing time. With each passing minute, each passing year, there’s this deepening awareness that I am filling, gaining time. We stand on the brink of eternity.”

So… I skipped my twenty year highschool reunion, opting instead to meet my sisters for a self-care sob sesh of dessert and pedicure. We cried big, gloppy tears right into our fancy cake (one sister ordered three slices, I’ll never tell who) and then sunk, weary into massage chairs while befuddled nail techs polished our toenails.

I’m still struggling to put words to my feelings, but suffice it to say my paternal grandfather had ALL of the fruits of the Spirit, and 1 Corinthians 13 down pat…

The fruit of [Gramps’] Spirit was… love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. 

[Gramps was] patient, kind, not envious, not boastful, not proud, not rude, not selfish, not easily angered, kept no record of wrongs, did not delight in evil, but rejoiced in the truth; always protected, always trusted, always hoped, always persevered. 


One response to “Don’t Go to Target with a Broken Heart (& other thoughts on grief)”

  1. […] Grandpa passed away a couple of weeks ago; we laid him to rest as a family a couple weekends ago and this past weekend […]

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