Grief will sneak up on you …

I’ve heard that grief has a way to sneak up on you and attack when you’re not expecting it. That’s what happened to me last night.

I should have seen it coming. I was asked to sing at a 16-year-old’s funeral last night. He was a young boy in our church who also went to the school Jeff taught and administered at until this year. He was in a car accident with two other boys. Only Micah was killed.

His family, our church family and his friends were rocked by the sudden loss of a life that had barely begun. Our pastor, his wife, our youth pastor and music ministry staff put together a beautiful memorial service, in which I sang with our praise team.

I was fine. I did completely fine until the end of the funeral. When they announced that the family had requested a few minutes with Micah and would everyone please exit the building quickly to honor that, a fountain of grief erupted inside me. That same moment in my dad’s funeral, which was not even two months ago, rushed back to me. I remembered how I wanted dad’s funeral to go on and on and not end, and how I didn’t want to leave his body — knowing in my head that he wasn’t there, but wishing in my heart to stay as close to him as I could. I imagined that’s how Micah’s parents were feeling too.

We were to keep singing “Spirit Fall on Me” as everyone exited. I couldn’t get the first note out. Tears started streaming and I couldn’t choke them back or get myself together. I ran off the stage and crumpled into a ball in the stairwell next to it, where no one could see me. I sobbed uncontrollably. I was shaking. I couldn’t get my head out of my lap.

A minute later, our pastor’s wife came and wrapped her arms around me and just apologized over and over. She realized it was too soon for me to do something like this. I told her I thought I would be able to do it — after all, I spoke at my dad’s funeral. She pointed out that I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart then. So true! She was very sweet about not making me feel like an idiot for losing it.

I found my way through the crowd and found Jeff and Madilyn. Madilyn wanted me to hold her and didn’t want me to let her go. I believe babies have a way of sensing when people are hurting. She patted me on the back sweetly. Jeff took me to Sonic to get an Orange Cream Crush, and it was delicious. We also ate grilled cheese sandwiches.

I thanked God for the ability to grieve, and I prayed that Micah’s parents will be able to properly grieve as time goes on. My mother-in-law, who lost her husband (Jeff’s dad) when he was only 43, says funerals and moments like this always have a way to bring back the grief, the memories and sense of loss. In a way, I’m sure that’s good. I imagine the recycling of emotions helps keep us clean inside and allows us to move forward with tender hearts.