Reflections on Grief

It has been a good long while since I have written anything for this blog. Between school, field education, work, graduation, dating, and dealing with grief, this has been a tremendously complex season in my life.

The most difficult moment of this season occurred on March 3, 2017, when my partner, Sham, died. These past few months have been extremely painful and filled with loneliness, beauty, despair, suffering, hope, rare kindness, and much more than I have even been able to process yet.

However, in the midst of my grief, I have tried to write. At first, it was excruciatingly painful to write. But thanks to finals, I had to do a lot of writing and fortunately, I had professors who provided me some space to integrate my grief into my writing.

As I move beyond finals, I have found myself writing as a form of healing. Below you will find one of my pieces about my grieving process.


It comes in waves.

From day one, they told me about the waves

They said that I just had to ride the waves

They said the grief would come in waves

And they were right

It does indeed come in waves.

At first it was like a tsunami that came to destroy all that I knew and loved

Roaring and crashing through my being, I wept and I wept

Boxes of tissue later I wondered if any more tears could come

But come they did

Yet, I still tried to pretend like everything was normal

You see, it was too much

Too much to survey the destruction in my soul after that fatal phone call

I couldn’t do it

Time stood still.

What would I do?

How would I do?

How could I do?

What was the point?

The days dragged along

They still came

The nights were long and lonely

My thoughts raced with anxiety and fear

Was it real?

Were you real?

Were we real?

The waves crashed and roared

Therapy, pastoral counseling, journaling, long phone calls, wine with friends, and weeping alone

This became life

And as for the waves, they began to become familiar

The great sadness was becoming almost normal

But the grief was exhausting

And then there came a day when the water was calm

The waves seemed to stop

And then when I least expected it, another great wave crashed over me

Weeping came again

It was as if you left me all over again

My heart was broken anew

And now I am remembering

Remembering the pain

Remembering your face

Remembering the touch of your hand on my face

Seeing you lying in the casket lifeless

Your face cold

Your hands no longer warm in mine

What could I do?

How could I do?

You’re gone, you’re gone, you’re gone

He is gone, he is gone, he is gone.

But now I know

Now I know that the water will calm down again

And now I know that there will be more waves

But it’s okay that there are waves

Because nothing can ever take away our story together

Nothing and no one can ever take away our love

It remains in my heart

You remain in my heart

And until the next wave comes, I will remain grateful for you and for our love.



  1. Patrice Lavanture · May 23, 2017

    Thanks Lance for this- it’s beautiful, heartbreaking , and sadly, real. We were just talking about the call we got. In a hundred years I would not have guessed this would be the new reality. Life without him…may God bless and protect you and your sweet tender heart in your waves. Love you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • lancehurst · May 24, 2017

      Patrice, thank you so much. I love you too and appreciate you and Paula so much. You two make life easier ❤️


  2. huka · May 24, 2017

    The aching honesty of your grief is beautiful to read. I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for my own losses. Thanks for reminding me of my humanness today Lance.

    Liked by 1 person

    • lancehurst · May 24, 2017

      Thank you so much for reading and responding. I am sorry for your losses as well. Peace to you

      Liked by 1 person

  3. gregoryjosephs · May 24, 2017

    When I was nineteen I suffered the sudden loss of my best friend, who I was very much in love with. To that point, I thought I understood what grief was, but living through it was a whole other ordeal. I just remember over and over again feeling as though I’d gone through this looking glass like a brick and left my old life shattered behind me. Some days the pain was so real, and other days his very existence (and his passing) seemed like a fiction to me—a story that happened to someone else.

    Eventually the waves stop, or at least slow to a point where you don’t notice them. You never stop loving, but life moves on even when you don’t want it to (I didn’t want it to). Now it’s thirteen years later and it took writing a book inspired by the whole thing to get all my feelings about it out. . .

    I ache for you. So sorry for your loss, but I’m glad the writing is helping. I’m also glad you’re sharing it. Thank you. Reading this meant something to me.


    Liked by 1 person

    • lancehurst · May 24, 2017

      Gregory, thank you so much for sharing your story. It is painful and yet beautiful to see the way that grief can create connections. Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment. I hope you continue to find healing on this journey.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Kayla McKnight · May 24, 2017

    Absolutely beautiful Lance! Thank you for sharing. I love you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • lancehurst · May 24, 2017

      Thank you so much, Kayla! I love you too! I hope you and Ben are doing well!


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