Grief and Remembrance
Open Your Bible
Jeremiah 8:18, Psalm 42:1-11, Genesis 23:1-4, Genesis 23:19, Isaiah 25:8, Psalm 43:1-5, Isaiah 65:19-20
BY Kaitlin Wernet
My very first memory is the day I became a sister. As soon as the birth of my baby brother was announced, I kicked open the maternity ward doors with my red Keds, singing, “I’m a Little Teapot” at the top of my lungs. He was the tiniest, sweetest, greatest thing to happen to my two-and-a-half-year-old life.
A few years later, I’d be clever enough to replace the words in another favorite nursery rhyme, “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” with my own name and reality, singing,
Mary Kaitlin had a little brother,
Had a little brother, had a little brother.
Mary Kaitlin had a little brother
Who lived in her house too.
I taught the song to my classmates, who’d sing it as I paraded through the elementary school carpool line, hand in hand with my little lamb. Some days I still wake up with this tune stuck in my head, rolling over to realize, yet again, the song’s taunting truth: I had a little brother—past tense. He’s gone now.
In the days following my brother’s death, the influx of sympathy cards, corn casseroles, news stories, pastoral visits, written obituaries, and floral arrangements all sang in unison, stuck on the same line: “Had a little brother, had a little brother, had a little brother.”
Death had stolen my song.
During the funeral, I stood in the first church pew, ready to lace up my red Keds, kick open the sanctuary doors, and go claim my little brother. I decided it wasn’t too late for it to all be a big mistake. I was waiting for Grief to admit it had chosen the wrong family, for Tragedy to apologize, and for Sorrow to pack its bags. It all made more sense that way, because my brother was the kind of guy who’d blush at all this attention and giggle at the amount of formality. Or was he? I was already forgetting.
My thoughts are my most unreliable grief companion, with the capacity to be my sweetest advocate or my biggest traitor. Like having a sore muscle, I become afraid to make the next move, knowing that walking through memories has the power to heal, but it also has the power to hurt.
Inside the front door of our childhood home, there’s a piano, the bench cushion worn equally on both sides. Together, my brother and I had written our own rendition of “Heart and Soul”—he on the bass clef, me on the treble. I sit in the same spot now, alone, recalling all of my notes perfectly, the duet only heard in my head. I remember all of his notes too. And I’m reminded that I am still Mary Kaitlin, but I no longer have a little brother who lives in my house too. I feel like the psalmist, pounded by the waves:
“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your billows have swept over me.
The Lord will send his faithful love by day;
his song will be with me in the night—
a prayer to the God of my life” (Psalm 42:7–8).
Death can steal our song, but it cannot stop us from singing. And while I hold onto the hope of heaven, I am relieved and comforted by remembering God’s faithfulness to me in all things, right now.
When I hear one of our old songs, sometimes I listen, and other times I don’t. But when I’m feeling brave, I begin to mouth the words of that childhood song about my little brother, and I’m reminded of the true root of my grief: love. And that’s something I’ll never forget.
152 thoughts on "Grief and Remembrance"
-
I think I am going to have read this one a few times… it’s been 14 years since my brother died, 11 years since my mother died and 10 years since my dad died, and I am still drowning in the heaviness of grief and pain as though it were yesterday.
-
I wish there was a rule book or a guide to grieving and timelines of grief so we could know what mindsets and emotions and attitudes help us move forward and which ones hinder us. My best friend and sister in law died close to a year ago and I feel the grief will be just as heavy in ten years because I don’t know how to identify what is simply the natural cycle of grief and what is anger or bitterness or resentment that binds me. I want to know the precursors to healing well and what is keeping me stuck. I hope the same for you…that God can draw out what feelings and attitudes will help you find some light in the darkness of grief. The loss of 3 people like you’ve had is not an easy journey ♥️
-
-
Losing my 18 year old son in January 2017 was definitely the hardest thing I’ve had to face on this Earth. So thankful for my Lord and Savior and his indescribable ability to comfort me when grief strikes at it’s worst. Have also list a brother, Mom and Dad. I know I will sing and praise God with them one day.
-
Grief seems to be a lifelong journey for me. Most days are goo
-
Thank you for writing this and being so intentional about what grief really feels like. I unexpectedly lost my grandmother 7 weeks ago and it’s been heart breaking and caused so much pain. I’m so thankful for the encouragement of your story and also, for the encouragement of knowing I have a good Father. No matter what. ❤️
-
Wow. Thank you for this. I lost my Mom just over a week ago. She had been suffering for some time so we knew it was coming but it was still very heartbreaking. I like how this devotional talked about mourning and remembering.
-
I’ve also lost my brother a few years ago. This really hit home. I’m really thankful the words of this writer.
-
This is good, and heartbreaking, and good. I’ve been here more times than I care to admit it remember, holding grief and hurt and confusion at arms length uncertain whether to embrace and heal or continue to hold the pain away from me.
It’s a mess. And the process doesn’t get easier. I’ve lost my mother and her two bothers all before I hit 28, each of them passing in their 30’s. I’ve lost best friends and grandparents and each time I wonder when it will stop and what the point is– especially if he’s as good as he says he is.
I don’t have an answer but I resonated with this:
11 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.Life is a string of ups and downs and at the end of the day, even amidst the pain and frustration, I always come back to the truth that I will see the goodness of God in the land of the living.
Because he’s good, because he’s good.
-
I loved reading your story, but my heart broke over the loss of your dear little brother. I cannot imagine, as a young girl, the pain that you suffered. On this side of Heaven, we cannot possibly understand the grand plan of God’s…but what we do know is that He is Sovereign and He loves us, Oh how He loves you and me! Thank you for sharing your dear heart and the reminder of God’s sweet faithful love for us. He tenderly cares for us and heals our sorrows as time passes by, praise God that some day we will never cry again!
Post Comments (152)