Ten Reminders For The Grieving Christian: TEN REMINDERS, #3

By Pamela Q. Fernandes

• Are you a grieving Christian that has been deep in the valley of darkness?
• Are you questioning your own faith as you mourn the loss of a loved on?
• Have you been wondering where to next? Why has God done this to me? How could he have taken my loved one away?

If this is you, then Ten Reminders for the Grieving Christian is for you.
In this book, Dr. Pamela Q. Fernandes talks about  how you can remain in God's love and make it through this winter of grief.
As a follow up book in her Ten Reminder Series, she talks about her own struggles with her faith as she grieved the loss of her father, Richard Fernandes. She explains how long and how far she's come through the mind-numbing pain of grief.  By God's grace, she wrote a book to help others on their journey knowing fully well that you can never completely move on but heal only by trusting Jesus.

Are you a grieving Christian  looking for answers? Then this book might help you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pamela Q. Fernandes
• Release date: Aug 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393736431

Pamela Q. Fernandes

Pamela Q. Fernandes is a doctor, author, and medical writer. She hosts The Christian Circle Podcast and plays the piano. When she's not writing or practicing medicine, she's baking or traveling the world. She started as an author with Seoul-Mates and since then has written many romances, UNDER A SCOTTISH SKY, CINDERS OF CASTLEREA & other short stories. Pamela writes romance, speculative fiction, women's fiction, and Christian non-fiction.

Book preview

DEDICATION

Jesus conquered death!

Jesus rose again.

And so will

I

Acknowledgments

I HAVE TO THANK SO many people who worked on this book with me.

Even though this has been a painful book to write, I thank God for providing me with the opportunity and will to write it.

I’m grateful to all those people who stood with me in different moments from the moment my father died to the days after.

My mother, who despite everything had now become the rock of our home, who’s replaced the wings under which we look for comfort in the absence of dad, your transformation has been beautiful.

There are no words to describe how thankful I am to my uncles, Victor, and Neves who have supported us throughout when we were struggling.

I was also joined by these helpful hands, Jason and Lancia, Craig, Malachus, and Olanda in small simple ways.

I cannot thank my good friend, Siana for simply being with me day after day, without any judgment. You teach me so much about spiritual friendship. 

For the priests who celebrated my dad’s funeral mass, I’m so grateful for their generosity; Bishop Barthol Baretto, Fr...  and fr Oscar. Fr Oscar, it was so beautiful that you the priest who had joined my parents in matrimony were able to bless my dad as he made his journey onward. 

Mark, thank you for trying to help me in your special way.

There are many people, angels, who helped me whose names I don’t even know. Just faces, and smiles, or voices on the telephone. I don’t know how to say thank you for the many ways you saved me.

Les thanks so much for this beautiful cover and for understanding my vision.

I owe my editor a big hug for all my errors. Thank you.

And Dad, I miss you!

Introduction

TEN REMINDERS FOR THE Grieving Christian was planned years ago in 2016. I was grieving for my father and the book wanted to spring forth from my very being. I considered writing it nearly four months after my dad suddenly died, but found myself full of hate, anger, revenge, and chaos. Too clouded by emotions, I put the book aside.

I was in no position to write a book. On the outside I seemed put together; whole, but on the inside, I was broken, hurting, and vindictive. I couldn’t see past my emotions, neither could I pray nor face God who had so cruelly snatched my father away well before his time or so I thought.

I lashed out at everyone and holed myself at home, barely going out and hating the very thought of facing people. I was offended by everything and anything.

The shock of it all sent me into a tailspin I had never imagined. I stayed in bed, curled up, and cried until there were no more tears. Then I’d start all over again. It was hard to even function, breathe, and live. I dreamt vivid dreams in which he was alive, happy that it was simply a nightmare I could wake up from. Then, I’d wake up and sob because the reality was different. I relived those last moments repeatedly, the minutes where he spoke to me in the hospital and I went out to make the admission payments. (In India, the emergency won’t treat you unless you’ve paid.)

I will never forget my mother coming running down and saying, they’re saying it’s an emergency. And I was torn between paying and running back upstairs. As we climbed the stairs, I thought he’d make it. I had this unquestioning faith in God. He would take care of my dad.

I could barely hear the words the doctor said to me, CPR, worst, prepare, and I could hardly breathe. I watched them perform CPR as I was called to observe and froze. I remember gulping whole breaths of air and my eyes swam with tears. I’m a doctor, I should have helped them, but I couldn’t bring myself to move as the tableau played out before me.

I have turned over the events of that morning over and over and over in the years that ensued. I should have, could have, would have done something. Anything. Maybe if I did, the outcome would have been different, I told myself.

Why didn’t I? Guilt ate at me. Life changes in a blink. I couldn’t understand how he was there one minute and gone the next.

For the first few days, I would see him, imagine him around the house, hear his voice, see him in my dreams, imagine hearing his characteristic cough somewhere. It was almost as if I had some post-traumatic psychosis.

I heard my dad’s colleagues’ words echo in my ears repeatedly. He’s gone. Your father, Richard’s gone. I’m so sorry. Our Richard’s gone.

At every turn, all I wanted to do was scream and shout. I kept it all inside. I had responsibilities and I knew my family looked up to me even as we were falling apart. For the next two years, I stayed on a slow-moving road while the world ground on. I was alone and had no one around me. My family all grieved in their own little bubbles. And the process of recovery was painful.

Death comes in like a stealthy soldier. Suddenly, it appears and draws the spirit of life from you. And everything as you know it ceases to exist.

In a flash, someone runs out of days. They are here one moment and gone the next. No matter its timeframe, death fiercely rips apart the fabric of your life, reducing it to shreds.

I couldn’t get away from the mind-numbing pain for nights, the incessant crying till I vomited, the ranting and shrieking and not wanting to see people or hear their explanations or answer the question for the hundredth time ‘how are you feeling.’

Don’t ask me how I’m feeling, I wanted to volley back. Because I wasn’t feeling. I couldn’t seem to get past this numbness that took hold of me. My heart was frozen and I wanted to die.

I knocked and knocked at heaven’s door for a reprieve, but God bolted that door and shut it in my face. All I saw, heard and felt was silence. Like an interminable pain, that didn’t seem to end. I had no answers from Him.

I honestly don’t wish this on anyone, not even an enemy. Grief is a club I’d be happy if you never joined. Whether your loved one has suddenly been called or gently drifted away, it’s okay to lament. To wail and mourn, to hurt like there’s no tomorrow, and to experience the full spectrum of loss. It’s okay to feel and not feel, to cry, and be angry. It’s okay to be upset, and sad. It’s okay to mourn and grieve when death breaks down your door and seizes one of your own. It’s alright to carry a frozen heart. To wallow in guilt and self-pity. For a while.

How long? That will differ for everyone.

From what I’ve felt, the void just never gets filled. But the vast emptiness contracts as the heart expands and you make the choice