3 Things That Helped Me Grieve The Death Of My Best Friend

As anyone can tell you, loss is never easy. We know some losses are inevitable as we grow up. Grandparents will pass, we will say goodbye to elderly neighbors, and one day, though we pray it is far away, we know we will tell our parents “I love you” for the last time before they enter Heaven. But it never even crossed my mind that, at the age of 30, I could lose one of my best friends. 

Mary and I met 24 years ago on the sidelines of a soccer field in New Hampshire. It was nearly dark outside on a cold October night. I was waiting for my sister’s game to finish and watching a group of little girls my age running and playing nearby. I was an incredibly shy kid, but something came over me at that moment, and I stood up from the grass and walked over to the redhead who was clearly the leader of the group and asked, “Can I play?” 

Mary said yes. Our friendship had begun.

We spent the next six years playing Barbies, climbing trees, having sleepovers, playing dress-up, and swimming in the cold New Hampshire lake across from Mary’s house. It was a Thomas Kinkade painting kind of childhood. 

Even when my family moved to Georgia when I was 12, I still flew to New Hampshire to visit Mary once a year. We wrote letters, opened Christmas and birthday presents over the phone, and wore our matching friendship bracelets. We fell out of touch for a year in high school as we struggled to determine what our friendship would look like as grown women, but a phone call filled with apologies and a renewed commitment to our friendship sent us into the adult phase of our relationship. 

I was honored to stand by Mary’s side as her maid of honor when she fell in love, despite having heard her proclaim for years she would never marry. (God’s plans are so much better than ours.) I celebrated with Mary when she told me she was pregnant for the first, second, and third time. I loved watching her be a mom. I have never seen anyone love their children with such joy and commitment.

Our calls were infrequent and our visits even less frequent in the hecticness of the seasons we both found ourselves in – Mary, a wife and mother of three in New England, and me working in D.C. But after we sustained friendship for over two decades, multiple moves, hundreds of miles of distance, and changing seasons, picking up right where we left off was our norm. 

Unexpected Goodbye 

I had not spoken to Mary apart from a few messages for a couple of months when I got a call from my mom at work on a Thursday in September. 

“Hi, is everything okay?” I asked my mom. 

“Mary had a stroke and is being airlifted to a hospital in Boston,” she said. 

“What?” was the only response that came to my mind. Mary was healthy. She ran daily and had competed recently in a half marathon. 

I learned more details later that night. Mary was in surgery due to a blood clot in her brain that had caused the stroke. I began texting friends and my church community for prayer. Mary needed a miracle. All I knew to do was pray, and that is what I did for three days. 

I was getting in my car to go to an event in D.C. on Sunday afternoon when I saw I had a text from my sister telling me to call her. I was maybe in denial, but it didn't cross my mind that Mary could have died. How could that be? Her children needed her, her husband needed her, her parents needed her, and I needed her. 

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked my older sister as I pulled out of my parking space. 

“Virginia, Mary passed away this morning,” my sister said gently. 

I made it to the bottom of my street before pulling over and throwing the car into park. 

“It’s not fair,” I said through sobs, with another choice word I will omit here. I felt like the air had been taken from my chest and reality had been rewritten in some dystopian manner. 

Why, God?

Inevitably, the “Why, God?” question slammed against the door of my heart. I knew it was unlikely I would find an answer, so I tried to think of something more useful to pray, but there it was again. “Lord, I don’t understand. Why did you allow this?” 

I don’t want to disappoint you, so I will tell you now that I have no answer to the “Why, God?” question, at least not one that will satisfy the mind. 

In the weeks that followed Mary’s passing, I experienced three things that have changed the way I will walk through grief in future seasons.

1. Honesty in Grief  

First, I decided I would not lie to those who I know love me and would take time to listen to me. When friends at church asked how I was, I told them I was grieving the loss of my childhood best friend and wept with many of them. And when co-workers gave their condolences, I thanked them and told them it was the hardest loss I had experienced in my life. 

I used wisdom in what I shared with whom, but I was honest about how I was really doing. 

My own honesty not only brought tremendous relief to my heart, but it also created a space for connection. Friends opened up about loss and hardship they had experienced. In grief, it is so comforting to hear the stories of those who have walked through similar pain as it serves as a reminder that you are not alone. 

2. Prayer 

Secondly, I kept praying and seeking God for answers. The process was, and is, messy, but I ask God to help me understand His power and why He did not use His power to heal my friend in the way I had asked him. After a conversation with my pastor, I realized I may have been thinking of God’s power incorrectly. 

In the wise words of my pastor, God’s power is that “we live, we die, and we live again.” God’s power can certainly be displayed in miracles, I believe, but the true weight of God’s power is that He conquered death for all.

And yet, the pain of loss remains. Yes, there is peace in knowing I will see Mary again because Jesus conquered death on the cross, but what about the pang of grief right now? 

3. Surrendering My “Right” To Understand 

Finally, surrender. Surrender can feel offensive to the grieving heart. How dare you tell me to let go when already so much has been taken! And yet I heard the Lord calling me to surrender, not in a fearful way, but to open my fists that were clenched so tight, let go of my “right” to understand, and receive His comfort and love. 

Closing Thoughts

To all those who have lost a friend long before it felt like it was their time to leave you, I’m so sorry. It has been seven months since I lost Mary, and I miss her more than ever. She would have been 32 in April. The pain of grief ebbs and flows with time. I pray that if you have lost a friend, or anyone you loved dearly, that you might find a little hope here today. 

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