Did I tell you about the whirlwind of grief that hit me when my father-in-law, Readon (or Fathy, as I called him), passed away last year? Well, brace yourself—not for belly-aching laughter this time, but for some honest musings from my heart.
I call it: Only the Wearer of the Shoe Knows Where It Pinches Most.
Fathy had a mild stroke, and things seemed to be on the mend. But just as we were starting to exhale in relief, one day, he simply passed away. No drama, no build-up—just like that. The man had a knack for efficiency, even in death.
Now, here’s the kicker: I’ve never lost a parent before. Naturally, my focus at the time was to support my husband, who’d just lost his dad. But grief, that uninvited guest, has its own peculiar way of crashing the party.
My husband was the picture of strength, taking everything in stride. Me? I was a mess. I got so sick, you’d think I was the one with a stroke. I was knocked out for nearly three months of the year! Let me tell you, that was not part of the “stand by your man” plan.
And here’s the burning question: why was I seemingly more affected than the person who actually lost his father? Am I an emotional sponge? Do I have a PhD in catching feelings? Your guess is as good as mine. I’ll leave the psychoanalysis to the experts and stick to what I’ve learned through this experience.
For starters, the way people showed up for us was humbling. Friends, authors, clients, partners—they all rallied around us. It was as if the world paused just long enough to carry us through. And that’s where the big lesson came for me: as a society, we need to up our empathy game.
You see, we’re quick to assign grief quotas based on relationships. “Oh, it’s just an uncle; you’ll be fine in a week.” Or, “It was a second cousin twice removed—why are you so devastated?” Stop it. Stop rationalising grief.
Grief is not a math problem. A mentor’s passing can unravel a mentee. A distant uncle’s death can crush someone. An employee’s loss can leave an employer reeling. The point is, pain isn’t neatly distributed according to proximity or titles.
And healing? Well, it’s not a one-size-fits-all affair either. Some people bury themselves in work to cope. Others can barely face the thought of work at all. Some spouses remarry quickly—it’s their way of moving forward. Others never remarry, holding onto the memory for a lifetime.
Parents who lose a child may decide to have another baby right away. Others can’t even imagine “replacing” the one they lost. And that’s okay. There’s no universal grieving manual.
So let’s do this: let’s stop telling people how to mourn. “Get over it already.” “Don’t cry; be strong.” “You’re taking this too hard.” No. Let’s ditch the advice and just show up for people. Be a shoulder, a listening ear, or simply present. Sometimes, silence and a warm cup of tea say more than words ever could.
Grief is messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal. All we can do is walk alongside those who are mourning and let them find their way through it—on their terms, in their time. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll all be better humans for it.
And that, my friends, is the long and short of how I learned to empathise while flat on my back, sick with grief for a man who wasn’t even my biological dad. Go figure.
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Five Lessons from Grief and Loss
Grief teaches us profound lessons about life, love, and faith. Here are five key takeaways, grounded in Scripture, to guide us in navigating and supporting others through seasons of loss.
1. Empathy is a Divine Calling
We must learn to feel and carry one another’s burdens without judgment or assumptions. Grief is deeply personal, and its weight varies for everyone. Empathy involves being present and compassionate, even when we don’t fully understand the pain.
Scripture:
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15).
“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).
2. Healing is a Journey, Not a Deadline
Everyone heals differently, and there is no set timeline for recovery. While some may appear to bounce back quickly, others may take years to find their footing. Both responses are valid. Our role is to give people the space and grace to heal.
Scripture:
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4).
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).
3. Grief Can Reveal God’s Comfort
Pain and loss often lead us to deeper dependence on God. In our weakness and vulnerability, His comfort and strength become more apparent. Grief allows us to experience His sustaining grace in ways we might not otherwise.
Scripture:
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26).
4. Be Present, Not Prescriptive
People in grief don’t need advice, solutions, or timelines. What they need is presence—someone to sit with them, listen, and pray. Words may fail, but love expressed through actions speaks volumes.
Scripture:
“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you” (John 15:12).
“A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity” (Proverbs 17:17).
5. Eternal Perspective Gives Hope
While loss is painful, it reminds us of the hope we have in Christ. Death is not the end for believers but a transition to eternal life. This assurance gives us the strength to persevere and encourages us to comfort others with the same hope.
Scripture:
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).
“For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first” (1 Thessalonians 4:16).
Final Reflection
Grief is a difficult teacher, but its lessons can deepen our faith and sharpen our compassion. Let us learn to love better, empathize more, and extend the comfort we’ve received to others. Above all, let us hold fast to the hope we have in Christ, who promises joy beyond the tears.
What Book is in My Hands Today?
Well, let me tell you, the book currently occupying my hands (and my heart) is Even Here by Ivy Gikonyo. It’s one of those books you don’t just read—you experience it, much like grief itself.
They say experience is the best teacher. But when it comes to grief, I think we’d all prefer to drop out of that class, wouldn’t we? Before experiencing it firsthand, I thought grief was just sadness with a fancy name. Oh, how naive. Turns out grief is an uninvited guest that shows up with its entire emotional entourage—sadness, anger, confusion, guilt, and even moments of awkward laughter. It’s a bitter cocktail, and nobody asked for happy hour.
Ivy Gikonyo captures this perfectly in Even Here. Through her poignant storytelling, she unpacks the layers of grief in a way that feels deeply relatable yet oddly comforting. The book reminded me of my own journey with grief, like when my father-in-law passed away. I thought my job was to support my husband through his loss, but surprise! Grief had other plans for me—like knocking me out for three months and stealing my appetite for anything except tears and ginger tea.
Much like Ivy explains in her book, grief has a way of throwing logic out the window. It doesn’t care about relationships or “how close” you were to the departed. It comes with its own playlist and dance moves, and you’re just along for the ride.
But here’s the beauty of Even Here: it’s not just about the pain of grief—it’s about God’s presence in the pain. Ivy gently reminds us that even in the darkest moments, God is even here with us, holding us when we feel like falling apart.
So, if you’re navigating loss—or trying to support someone who is—this book is a must-read. It’ll make you cry, laugh (yes, there’s humour in grief too), and, most importantly, remind you that you’re never alone.
And hey, the next time someone tells you, “Grief is just sadness,” hand them Even Here and watch their perspective do a 180. Trust me, they’ll thank you later. Or cry. Probably both.
Meet the Author
Ivy is a born-again Christian, an experienced legal professional, and an Advocate of the High Court of Kenya. She holds a Master’s Degree in International Law from Oxford Brookes University, Oxford, a Postgraduate Diploma in Law from the Kenya School of Law, and a Bachelor’s Degree in Law from Kenyatta University, Nairobi. Currently pursuing a PhD with a focus on sovereign debt, her journey is driven by a deep commitment to upholding human rights, fostering freedom of expression, and advocating for digital rights across Africa. With a passion for teaching, mentorship, and knowledge-sharing, Ivy seamlessly blends academia with practical legal engagement.
As an author and speaker, she enjoys facilitating thought-provoking conversations that inspire change and challenge perspectives. Her ability to connect with diverse audiences, coupled with her legal expertise, enables her to approach complex issues with creativity and effectiveness. An ardent lover of learning, she often jokes that she would be a lifelong student if circumstances allowed. When she is not immersed in legal discourse or academic pursuits, she indulges in her favorite pastime—singing, albeit professionally confined to the acoustics of her bathroom. She resides in Nairobi, Kenya, where she continues to balance faith, career, and personal passions with grace and purpose.
To find more about Gitonga Mutani, and his inspiring work, please visit https://africanauthors.net/ivy-gikonyo
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
With Christian Literature Communications – CLC Kenya
African Christian Authors Book Award – ACABA
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