Grief is not chaos. It’s not the absence of faith, nor is it a sign of weakness. It’s love; pure, raw, and powerful, carving out the space left behind by someone who mattered more than words can ever express.

And I am not in chaos. I am honoring my father. I carry the weight of what he meant to me, and that isn’t something that needs to be rushed or silenced.

And to those who feel the need to “fix” me, I know you mean well but I am not broken. There is nothing here that needs to be solved. What I need is respect for the silence of my grief and space to feel both the pain and the love that come with it.

Grief doesn’t ask for advice, quotes, or quick fixes. It asks to be felt. It demands space to exist because it comes from a place of deep connection and love. People might tell me to have faith, as if faith could erase the ache of loss. But my faith isn’t broken. It walks alongside my grief, not against it.

Let me just make it clear, this pain I feel for losing my father isn’t about losing my faith in God. It’s about being human. And in my humanity, I trust that God is near, holding space for both my sorrow and my healing. I never questioned God’s plan. I even surrendered Papa to Him, trusting that His will is greater than my understanding, even when it broke my heart. My grief doesn’t make me any less of a believer, it’s proof of how deeply I loved.

To those who have never faced the weight of real loss, please be careful with your words. Even the strongest faith doesn’t make anyone immune to pain, and throwing scripture at someone’s grief without compassion isn’t comforting, it’s judgment wrapped in self-righteousness. True belief isn’t about preaching from a safe distance; it’s about standing with someone in their sorrow without trying to fix, justify, or explain it away.

And if you can’t offer that, then maybe just keep your self-righteousness or maybe hypocrisy to yourself.

Love,

Ana 💋