How to care for yourself when your family is grieving

I love spring. The green shoots poking up through the dirt. The fresh leaves on the trees. The grass turning green.

But in our family, about the same time the signs of spring are bursting around us, our most extended season of grief also begins.

It usually starts in April and can extend through parts of June and sometimes into July. It’s a long stretch—but it’s a long stretch because many of our significant grief dates happen in that window. It covers Katie’s time in hospice, her death, Jensen’s birthday, Katie’s birthday, the period after her death that Craig spent slogging through a challenging estate process, and Craig and Katie’s wedding anniversary.

There are days that feel like such a dichotomy—I look outside and see signs of so much new life, but also see such heaviness and sadness inside our house.

Not every one of those significant dates hits in a significant way every year, but I can expect our family to experience big emotions and heaviness at various points throughout this season.

This is a stretch where I try to intentionally press into the emotional work our family is doing.

Each spring, I usually hear some new stories or memories of Katie that haven’t come up before. I walk with Craig as he remembers and works through the sharper memories surrounding the end of Katie’s life. There are conversations with kids about the timeline of her sickness, where they ask us to fill in missing pieces they don’t remember.

The emotional work we do during this time is good. But it is also heavy.

And in order for me to be able to continue pressing in well, I have to make sure I keep my own soul healthy and refreshed.

Make space for the things that restore your soul.

Maybe you love to walk outside, or hike. Maybe you like to sit in a coffee shop with a good book and a mug of tea. Maybe you enjoy tending a garden and keeping green things alive.

Whatever your thing is, make room for it. In longer grief seasons, it is critical that you prioritize your own rest and refreshment regularly.

I can’t engage well with my grieving family if I’m pouring from an empty cup. They need me to be at my best, showing up at my full capacity to witness the love they felt for their mama and wife, and able to witness the pain they feel because of her loss. When I care for my own heart so that I can dig deep with them as we walk through grief, I’m also caring for their hearts.

Take care of your body.

In seasons of emotional stress, it’s easy to neglect caring for our bodies. We might be tired or overwhelmed, or just stretched too thin. But caring for our bodies also helps support our emotions.

Prioritize good sleep. Eat nutritious food. Drink enough water. Get fresh air. Move your body, even if that just means going for a walk.

None of it is rocket science, but it’s easy to set these things aside when we are caring for others.

Find your person.

Or two people. Or a small village. You need people you can go to and process your own emotions during grief seasons in your home.

The longer we walk through grief as a family, the more I’m convinced of this. You see, I don’t grieve the same way my family does. I feel their sadness. I’m very engaged in their emotions. I hear and know by heart a great many memories they have surrounding losing Katie.

But I didn’t lose Katie.

I don’t feel their loss firsthand, because I didn’t experience it firsthand.

I describe it sometimes as secondary grief. I experience a lot of very real, very heavy emotions when my family is grieving. But my emotions are tied to watching my family walk through pain, rather than processing my own.

I’m struck over and over again by the fact that I have a family to love because a mama died. That fact has hit harder this past year after birthing a baby myself. I’m beyond grateful that God is able to redeem pain—but redemption doesn’t always erase the pain. It’s part of the reality of living in a broken world.

During grief seasons, I have emotions to process just like Craig and the kids do, and I’ve learned that it’s crucial for me to have a friend who is willing to walk with me through the heaviness. Her support helps me have an outlet to work through my own emotions, which allows me to keep walking well with my family.

Remember, if you are walking with a family who grieves, you’re in a marathon—not a sprint. Don't neglect your own care and well-being even as you care for the hearts' of your spouse or children. Processing grief will take time, and the more you maintain your own emotional health, the better equipped you'll be to support and love them well for the long haul.