Comfort for the Grieving Adult Child's Heart: Hope and Healing After Losing Your Parent

By Gary Roe

This loss of a parent is painful.

The loss of a mother or father can be traumatic. Oblivious to our suffering, the world around us speeds on as if nothing happened. Stunned, shocked, sad, confused, and angry, we blink in disbelief. Our hearts are broken. 

We've known them all our lives. How could they be gone?

We look for comfort. Our broken, grieving hearts need it to survive.

Multiple award-winning author, hospice chaplain, and grief counselor Gary Roe is a trusted voice who has been helping wounded, grieving hearts find hope and healing for more than three decades. Written with heartfelt compassion, this warm, easy-to-read, and practical book reads like a caring conversation with a friend and will become a comforting companion as you navigate the turbulent waters of grief.

Gary's desire is to meet you in your grief and walk with you there. Composed of brief chapters, Comfort for the Grieving Adult Child's Heart is designed to be read one chapter per day, giving you bite-sized bits of comfort, encouragement, and healing over a period of time. You do not have to read it this way, of course. We all grieve differently. Read in the way that is most natural for you. 

In Comfort for the Adult Child's Heart, you will discover how to...

• Process complicated grief emotions (sadness, anger, guilt, confusion, guilt, anxiety, depression, feeling overwhelmed, etc).

• Navigate all the relational changes - feeling alone, misunderstood, isolated, and even rejected by those around you.

• Handle the increased stress and uncertainty that this heavy loss can bring.

• Deal with physical and mental health issues, illnesses, and new symptoms that often arise.

• Take care of yourself through diet, hydration, fitness, and rest.

• Deal with a myriad of practical issues (financial challenges, parenting, family activities),

• Handle the intense sense of being orphaned that comes with this loss.

You will also find hope in how to...

• Think through the challenging spiritual and faith questions that frequently surface.

• Relate well to the people around you - those who are helpful and those who aren't.

• Overcome the tendency to run from emotional pain with unhealthy habits or compulsive behaviors.

• Deal well with triggers and the grief bursts that will come.

• Find the support you need for survival, recovery, and healing (safe people, fellow grievers, counseling, etc.).

• Develop a simple, realistic plan for birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays.

• Use your grief for good - for yourself, your family, and others. 

• Allow this loss to give you greater perspective and motivate you to live more effectively than ever before.

• Make your life count, one day, one moment at a time.

Please don't grieve alone. Let Comfort for the Adult Child's Heart join you on this arduous, tasking journey. Be kind to yourself. Take your heart seriously. 

Death has invaded, but it doesn't have to win. Read on. Comfort awaits you in these pages of this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gary Roe
• Release date: Jan 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393211044

Gary Roe

Kevin Carey, founder of thegriefguide.org and Diamond Grief Groups, is a grief management specialist and hospice chaplain who has been a trusted voice in grief recovery with a message of hope and healing to wounded hearts for the past three decades. In addition to being a former mental health therapist and minister, Kevin brings a pastoral approach to bereaved individuals through the difficult seasons of life.

Book preview

DEDICATION

To my father, E.L. Babe Roe.

Though you’ve been gone for over four decades, your influence lingers.

To my adoptive parents, Don and Sue Wills.

You took me in and changed the trajectory of my life.

I’m forever grateful to all three of you.

WHAT THIS BOOK IS ALL ABOUT

COMFORT.

We need it. Badly.

Loss is painful. Separation hurts. When a parent departs, our worlds change.

We’ve known them all our lives. We’ve never taken a single breath without them being present somehow.

Or perhaps we were adopted. Our parents received and loved us not because they had to, but because they wanted to. They chose us.

Maybe it’s a stepparent we’ve lost, but they embraced us as their own. They might have been more of a mom or dad to us than our birth parent was.

Not all familial relationships are close. Perhaps our deceased parent was a challenge for us to relate to and get along with. Maybe we were even estranged due to circumstances or past wounds.

No matter what the situation or how close the relationship, the loss of a parent is significant and unnerving. Our world shifted when they took their last breath.

Oblivious to our suffering, the world around us speeds on as if nothing happened. Stunned, shocked, sad, confused, and angry, we blink in disbelief. The pain can be immense.

We long for comfort. We look for it. Grieving hearts need it to survive.

In my own grief, I have been comforted by the compassion and kindness of others. Over the decades as a missionary and pastor, and now as a hospice chaplain and grief counselor, I’ve had the honor of walking with thousands of grieving hearts through the valley of loss, offering what comfort I can along the way. This is how comfort works. We comfort others with the comfort we ourselves have received.

HOW TO READ THIS BOOK

This book is about comfort. The loss of a parent can be tragic, devastating, and even traumatic. My desire is to meet you where you are in your pain and walk with you there.

Comfort for the Grieving Adult Child’s Heart is designed to be read one chapter each day, giving you bite-sized bits of comfort over a period of time. You do not have to read it this way, of course. You may find yourself wanting to read the same chapter several days in a row, or perhaps go back and reread a chapter here and there. We all grieve differently. Read in the way that is most natural for you.

The grieving process does not follow a formula of ordered steps. Instead, grief often comes in waves from multiple directions. We can experience various emotions and seemingly conflicting thoughts all at once. As result, I have not numbered these chapters because I don’t want to give the impression that grief is an orderly and predictable process. It is more like a meandering path strewn with unforeseen obstacles.

Chapters are purposefully brief and easy-to-read. Each chapter begins with the Grieving Heart speaking, followed by some thoughts about that day’s subject (shock, sadness, confusion, anger, anxiety, etc.). Every reading ends with an affirmation. I have compiled these affirmations for you at the end of the book.

WE’RE IN THIS TOGETHER

The loss of parent can be heartbreaking, complicated, and confusing. As mentioned before, many of us have more than two parents. We might have stepparents or adoptive parents in the mix. Some of these relationships can be challenging, and most of us have experienced many ups and downs in our families.

Who you lost and what your relationship with them was like will of course greatly impact your grief. Your grief journey will be somewhat different for each loss and each parent. If you’ve lost your last surviving parent, you can feel set adrift and orphaned, no matter how old you are.

We’re in this together. Though grief can be terribly lonely, no one should have to walk through the valley of loss alone.

Be kind to yourself. Take your heart seriously.

Read on. May you find comfort in the pages ahead.

HOW CAN YOU BE GONE?

FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:

I don’t know where to start.

I’ve known you all my life. You’ve always been here. You provided for me, cared for me, and rescued me more times than I can count.

How can you be gone?

Yes, I knew this would happen someday, but that doesn’t mean I was prepared for it.

I don’t know what to think or how to feel. It’s like I’ve been hit by a brick. I’m stunned. Dazed.

My mind is spinning. I want to scream. I open my mouth, but nothing comes.

No, this cannot be.

My heart is shaking. The world has changed.

Love is powerful. We’re wired for connection and relationship. We’re designed to love and be loved. Our parents were our first and most basic connection.

No wonder the loss of a parent is difficult to understand, let alone experience. When a mother or father leaves, dies, or is taken from us, our minds alternately spin and then freeze. Our hearts tremble. Our bodies can be immobilized by the shock. We’re stunned. We blink and wonder what happened, how, and why.

It feels as though the world has changed because it has. Our world has been altered forever. Someone we love desperately is missing.

Even if we’ve had other losses, this one is different. The loss of a parent affects everything. We gasp and breathe. And then we breathe again and again. Slowly. Deeply.

Affirmation: How can you be gone? I’m stunned. Dazed. I must breathe…

IS THIS WHAT A BROKEN HEART FEELS LIKE?

FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:

You’re going to come through that door any moment, I just know it.

You were just here. Where did you go?

How can this be?

I can feel the tears welling up inside. My thoughts are bouncing all over the place. My heart is screaming.

I feel sick. My stomach is churning. I’m lightheaded. The room is spinning.

Breathe. Yes, I must breathe.

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

This can’t be real. You were just here. I swear I can hear your voice.

I’m closing my eyes. Please be there when I open them.

Please.

We’re in this together. Our hearts are connected. We love passionately and deeply. Family ties run deep. Our attachment to our parents is more profound than we realize, whether our relationship was wonderful or less than the best.

When a parent departs, there is a tearing that occurs. The separation of two objects glued firmly together is messy, and neither object is ever the same.

Love lasts. It endures. When a mom or dad dies, our hearts love on. We look for them. We listen for their voice.

Then, reality hits. They’re gone. We cry, sob, and even scream. The sudden intensity of grief can make us feel ill.

We grieve because we dared to love. Whether biological, adoptive, or step, the bond between a parent and a child is unique and powerful. This loss is shocking and unnerving.

We let the tears flow. We let the sobs come. We scream if necessary. Our hearts are expressing our love through grief.

We will never be the same. How could we be? A tearing apart has occurred, and it hurts.

Affirmation: Because my love is deep, my grief will be intense. Tears are natural, and healthy.

HOW CAN THERE BE A WORLD WITHOUT YOU IN IT?

FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:

How can you be gone?

My heart is shocked, stunned, and broken. Perhaps shattered is a better word. I’m in pieces, all over the place.

And I’m sad. So sad.

You’re gone, yet I act like you’re still here. I wake up and expect you to be alive, just like you’ve always been.

How can there be a world without you in it?

Here come the tears again. I’m crying on the inside too. Tears everywhere. I’m one giant blob of sadness.

Your absence permeates everything. Everywhere I look, you’re not there. And it hurts.

I feel nauseated. Breathe. I must breathe. Breathe through the tears, through the sadness.

My heart is torn open. I’m spilling out all over everything.

This is awful.

I miss you.

Our heart is our most prized possession. It is the essence of who we are. When we love someone, our hearts are engaged. With our parents, our hearts have been engaged for a long time – perhaps since we took our first breath.

When a lifelong familial love bond like this is severed, our hearts are torn. At first, we’re stunned and in shock. Then we begin to feel the pain of loss.

We shake our heads in disbelief. Our minds struggle to grasp the unthinkable reality in front of us.

Our hearts begin to bleed emotion. A cloud of sadness looms over us. We become hyperaware of their absence. Out of habit and longing, we look for them, but to no avail. The reality that they are gone smacks us again and again.

Loss hurts. Our hearts have been sliced open. The pain can be excruciating. The sadness can be maddeningly intense.

How could we not be sad?

We keep breathing deeply. We give ourselves permission to be sad. We let the grief come.

As our love is deep, so will our grief be.

Affirmation: I give myself permission to be sad. I will let the grief come.

I FEEL LIKE AN ORPHAN

FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:

I woke up today with a sudden, startling realization.

I feel like an orphan.

I blinked and stared into the mirror. How can this be? I wondered.

I’ve always had you. Now I don’t. 

I feel like my foundation for life has cracked. Somewhere deep in my heart, my sense of stability and security has been shaken. The safety net beneath me, that I didn’t even realize was there, has disappeared.

I had a special, one-of-a-kind relationship with you. It changed over the years, as both of us grew and changed. I felt closer to you at some times more than others. We had our difficulties, too. 

But you were there, and I knew you were there. Now, you’re not. My head gets it, but my heart seems to be lagging way behind. 

Orphaned. What a powerful word. I feel sick. A huge shift has occurred in my personal universe. 

I don’t know what to do with all this. It’s like I’m trying to figure it out somehow. What do I do now? What’s next? 

I feel like an orphan. Where did you go?

When a parent departs, the realization of what we’ve lost occurs in layers over time. We’ve always had them. Now, we don’t. They’ve always been here. Now, they’re not. They’ve always been a phone call, text, or email away. Now, they’re gone with no way to reach them.

Then it hits us like a brick. We feel orphaned. It’s a stunning, strange, and surreal sensation. 

We can feel orphaned even if we still have a parent living. The departure of our first parent signals to our hearts that the orphaning process has begun. Though we may not realize it, we begin to brace ourselves for the reality that someday we will lose our other parent, as well. Unconsciously, our hearts begin preparing for the inevitable.

Orphaned. It feels like we’ve been set adrift in the middle of an unknown ocean with no land in sight. Our sense of security might feel like it’s been smacked with a battering ram. Our parents are naturally our unconscious emotional safety net, even if they are older and we’re the ones taking care of them. When they depart, our first, oldest, and thickest strands of our life web are cut, leaving us flailing in the breeze. 

Even if our relationship with them was not the best, the removal of their presence from this world stuns our adult child’s heart. We grieve what we lost. We grieve what we wished for and never had. We grieve what was and what will never be. 

When the orphaned feelings come, we will breathe deeply and feel some of the pain of this loss. Our personal universe has shifted. We will be kind to ourselves. This is hard.

Affirmation: The feeling of being orphaned can be deep, painful, and disturbing. I’ll be kind to myself, breathe deeply, and accept the emotions as they come. 

HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?

FROM THE GRIEVING HEART:

I woke up angry today.

I want you back. Now.

But you’re not coming back, are you? No, of course not.

How could this happen? Why? I don’t understand.

I know we will all die someday, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t things stay the same? Why can’t we all stay together?

I don’t like this anger, but sometimes it feels better than sadness. I find myself irritated with everything. My fuse is short. Frustration is bubbling just beneath the surface.

I think I’m going to explode. Maybe that would be better than holding this anger in. I don’t know.

I want to scream and hit something. Maybe I should.

You’re gone, and I’m angry.

When a parent dies or leaves, our hearts can break. Emotions pour out and flood our being. Sadness is one of the most common feelings we experience. Anger is another.

Our mom or dad is gone – perhaps both. We’re stunned, shocked, and sad. We begin to feel the pain. Their absence becomes a cloud that encompasses us no matter where we go.

Questions begin to surface. How could this happen? Why? Why them? Why us? Why now? Why this way?

Satisfying answers are hard to come by. Even disease and age aren’t sufficient reasons for their departure. We might understand what happened intellectually, but our hearts fidget with pent-up emotion. Anger begins to