“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4)
This post is part of the Writing Through Struggle and Healing series.
Watching Suffering Without Being Able to Help
There are few things more painful than watching someone you love suffer, knowing there is nothing you can do to ease it.
As Kathleen’s illness worsened, she spent more and more time in the hospital. Days blurred into waiting rooms, quiet conversations, and long silences filled with unspoken fear. I watched her endure pain with courage, and I felt utterly helpless. I wanted to fix something, to do something, but there was nothing within my power that could change the outcome.
That helplessness settled deep inside me.
When Grief Leaves You Numb
When Kathleen went to be with Jesus on 15 November 2024, my mind went blank. (I sometimes think it is still blank today). I did not know how to respond. I did not know how to feel. The emotions I expected did not arrive on cue.
I had every reason to break down, yet I did not. Not because I was strong, but because I was empty. I believe grief does that sometimes. I know because I experienced it. Grief does not always come as tears. Sometimes it comes as silence.
Writing as a Place to Breathe
In those days, I kept writing.
At first, I thought I was writing for my readers. I believed I was fulfilling a commitment, offering something helpful, something faithful. What I did not realize was that the writing was for me even more.
From the darkest valley, I typed. I blogged. I stayed with the words even when my thoughts felt scattered. Writing gave shape to what I could not say aloud. It slowed my breathing. It steadied my mind.
Often, Ben was there, curled up at my feet, quietly keeping watch. Between the tapping of the keyboard and his gentle presence, I found just enough grounding to remain sane.
Clinging to Grace, One Paragraph at a Time
Writing did not remove the pain. It did not explain the loss. However, it became a means of grace.
God gave me something to hold onto when everything else felt unreal. Through writing, I stayed connected to the Word of God. I stayed honest before God. I stayed present enough to keep walking, even when I could not see very far ahead.
Looking back, I see it clearly now. Writing was not just expression. It was survival. It was how God carried me through the valley, one paragraph at a time.
And for that, I remain deeply grateful.
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