You Sit on Your Throne—While He Struggles to Stand
I know You’re good. I just don’t understand how this is.
What Lesson Needs This Much Pain?
You sit on your throne of stars.
And I sit here watching him fumble with buttons.
Hands that used to carry so much
can’t even meet at the middle of a shirt.
And he was the faithful one.
The kind one.
The thankful even in the storm one.
He prayed.
He tithed.
He wept with others.
And this is what You gave him?
I don’t get it.
I don’t get how someone who poured out love
now needs help getting out of bed.
I don’t get why the disease chose him.
Why his muscles stiffen while his spirit stays soft.
Why his body fails him,
but he still praises You.
I want to scream.
To flip tables in churches.
To shake the sky and yell “Are You watching this?”
Because You could’ve stopped it.
You could’ve made it easier.
And You didn’t.
And still—
still he thanks You.
He calls it a test.
A walk through fire.
He says he’s not afraid, because You’re with him.
And maybe that’s what makes me the angriest—
that he still trusts You.
That I still trust You.
Even when I don’t understand.
Even when this feels like cruelty.
Even when I want to ask what kind of Father watches this unfold
and doesn’t intervene.
But maybe You’re weeping too.
Maybe You hate this just as much.
Maybe the miracle isn’t the healing,
but the fact that he still reaches for You through the shaking.
So I’ll keep yelling.
I’ll keep asking.
I’ll keep raging.
Because I know You can take it.
Because I know You’re still there…
I’m not leaving You. But You have to help me understand how love allows this.
Still Sitting With It?
Sometimes the ache doesn’t move. It lingers. It asks for more. You don’t have to act yet. You can stay here. Feel deeper. Or follow it into something else that hurts in a different shape.
Stay in This Pain
They Saw the Real You—Now No One Does
They saw the real you, the version you never showed anyone else. Now, no one else does. This post reflects the deep grief of losing a romantic partner who knew you at your core, and the emotional emptiness that follows when that connection is lost.
Explore Another Grief
Grief That Doesn’t Flinch: Stories That Cut to the Core
You won’t find platitudes here.
These aren’t guides or soft words—they’re raw, unfiltered reflections from the edge of real loss. If you’ve ever felt like no one understands what this actually feels like, these are for you.
Pain that lingers. Regret that echoes. Love that didn’t get its goodbye.
These stories don’t offer healing.
They offer truth.
→ Explore the Real Grief Collection
What you do with pain matters.
You can carry it. Or you can let it change what you still have.
Still Here?
The pain didn’t leave—but maybe you’re ready to walk with it instead of running from it.
Healing doesn’t start with answers. It starts with honesty. And you’ve already proven you can feel this deeply.
Now let’s see what living with it could look like.
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Not All Grief Ends in Darkness.
For some, the ache softens. For others, it sharpens what matters.
Whatever path you’re on—these journeys are here to help you make sense of it all, one honest step at a time.
Explore Journeys of Healing and Solace:
Discover dedicated spaces that offer understanding, guidance, and connection through grief. From the loss of loved ones to life’s challenging transitions, each category provides a pathway to reflect, connect, and find peace in shared experiences.
