It’s been 20 years since my dad passed away.

Twenty years. That feels impossible to say out loud, because in some ways it feels like yesterday… and in others, like a lifetime ago.

Here’s the wild part about grief: it doesn’t RSVP.

You can be going about your day, sipping coffee, laughing with friends, and then — boom — it shows up out of nowhere. A song. A smell. A memory. Suddenly, you’re sitting with a lump in your throat you didn’t see coming.

And I’ve tried to fight it. Push it down. Pretend it’s not there. But grief is sneaky like that — it insists on being felt.

Here’s what I’ve learned, though: even when I didn’t want grief to enter the room, God used it.
He used it to remind me of hope.
He used it to show me He is close to the brokenhearted.
He used it to deepen my empathy for others in ways I didn’t know I needed.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

So if you’re carrying loss today, please know this: you are not alone. God is near to you, too. Even when grief barges in and sits down at your table, He’s right there, pulling up a chair beside you. And maybe that’s the gift inside the ache: we don’t sit in it by ourselves.