Five Magic Words: A Personal Journey Through Grief

By Angie Dailey

Honestly, this journey caught me by surprise. I spent the entire time my dad was sick preparing for his death. What I wasn’t prepared for was his absence and everything that came with it. While I’ve had time to adjust, it still never feels complete. That’s the thing about grief- it never ends. You just have to learn to live with it. The journey is one which leaves no one unchanged. But it can teach you things you never knew about how to live and love. It has taught me to love as fiercely as I fight, to see people enduring loss in a different, more empathetic lens, and to never take anything for granted. We have one life to live and one chance to live it. Lastly, I had to learn to embrace the grief I was gifted with by sharing my journey with all of you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Feb 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664221109

Angie Dailey

Angie Dailey is an author in rural Ohio. Her writing experiences include her own website and various contributions in other virtual and print spaces. Angie’s experience losing her father to cancer prompted her to share this journey. She teaches middle school students during the school year and spends the rest of her time nurturing her family and her gardens. You can read more at her website angiedailey.com

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 Angie Dailey.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

844-714-3454

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version® NIV® Copyright © 1973 1978 1984 2011 by Biblica, Inc. TM. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-2108-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-2109-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-2110-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021901304

WestBow Press rev. date: 02/04/2021

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Part 1: How I Arrived Here

My Story Begins

A Time for Everything

In the Beginning

Helping Mom Heal

Part 2: The Struggle

Comparison Shopping

Fear, Frustration, and Failure

Understanding Your Own Journey

Realizing You Are Not Alone

Bonding with Others

Five Magic Words

Brothers and Sisters

Connecting with Jesus

The Unexpected Emotional Roller Coaster and Five Important Things

Recognizing Anger

Grief Share

The Wallowing Well

The Presence of Absence

Being Thankful and Regrets

Part 3: The Solutions

Turning Things Over

Reflection of Redemption and Healing

Purpose through Our Pain

Part 4: Resting, Receiving, and Resources

Afterthoughts

Epilogue

Preface

When I realized I had journaled so many things concerning the grief pit that I was in, I started feeling a tug to share them. I recognized the raw places that I had traveled in other people. I also witnessed how unique each journey was. I want to respect those differences. While the actual five magic words were an elixir to my soul, I also knew that not everything I had written was going to be for everyone. Things that are a cooling and calming balm for me may not make sense to you.

While I was rereading my manuscript for the seventy-fifth time (literally), I realized that I wanted to be very clear that this was my story, my perspective, and my journey. While I was never alone on this path, I did have my own perspective, which may or may not line up with those I am closest to. This is how grief works. It is different for us all, even when we are grieving the same person. As I ask others to be respectful of this, I ask you to consider it in your journey as well.

Lastly, get a tissue. Maybe take this very small piece of my life and read it in sections. Write in it if you want. Throw it across the room as I have many times. Then get a cup of coffee and breathe. Cut yourself some slack. Ask Jesus for the peace that surpasses all understanding because that is the point. We don’t understand any of this. But we can embrace it, learn to roll with it, and live fully again. From the bottom of my patched-up heart, thank you for reading my book.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to the countless people who have gone before me, showing me their resilience, faith, and wonder. Life wouldn’t be the same without those people to teach us. Jesus has been and will always be, and I would be nowhere without him.

John, you come second only to Jesus. Your friendship, devotion, and support have meant the entire world to me. I would never have had the courage to share this very personal story if it hadn’t been for you, my sweet man. It has been an amazing adventure, and I have loved every single minute, good and not so good.

M1, M2, M3, and M4, your quiet support, intense love, repeated sacrifice, and personal grief over Papaw were noticed by your momma. I hope you all know how much you are loved, are respected, and matter to me. I will always love you. You will always be mine.

Momma, I can never express how hard it has been to watch you struggle without Dad. I know that you know where your hope lies. I know that you are on your own journey. I hope my words are soothing to you. I hope they are honorable to him. I love you.

Angela, you know what you have done for me. Our dads would both be shaking their heads and loving us still. I love you, Sister.

Brandis, your unexpected friendship has been the biggest blessing to me. I hope my words are a sweet balm for your broken heart. I am right here.

The only thing I am sorry for is writing this because my dad is in heaven.

signaturegraphic.jpg

Introduction

This grief that has been forced on me and that is holding me hostage is the worst. I feel very numb to a lot of things that I used to become worked up over. I don’t care much what people think of me anymore. I don’t know if my writing career will take off or if this book will ever be published.

But I do know this: If one person reads my story and it helps that person, it was worth every late-night typing session and my worrying. It was worth my sitting in this uncomfortable chair at this wiggly, loose dining room table. It was worth pouring my heart out on paper and taking a risk that others would be angry or overwhelmed while reading it. I am sorry that it took me so long to convey my feelings on paper. I just couldn’t do it.

As I am beginning to write this, I face my forty-fourth birthday with fear and anxiety because last year on this day, I was watching my daddy die before my eyes. I was holding his hand, and he was squeezing it, giving me a little smile, and telling me that he loved me. Those were his last words to me, and I couldn’t have asked for more … except I do.

When you read my words, please don’t think I am odd. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am just like the rest of you. I am broken. I am human. I am full of ideas. Emotions just get in the way. I have a heart that is directly connected to my soul. When it’s on fire, they both are on fire. When it hurts, they both hurt. I feel sad, and they both weep. When I need Jesus, they both cry out. My heart bled, and my soul followed right behind it.

I feel liberated to share this pain with you because it’s the only way that I can find release. Every grief journey is surely different, but we all travel it because we love fiercely, deeply, and boldly. We love without condition or rules.

When someone’s life is stripped away from us, we cry like an infant. We need our Father in heaven to heal our wounds. They all come at different costs and times. We must learn the hard way, as with everything else, that we are human and not invincible. None of us will be spared. Eventually, we all pass on to the next big thing.

When we do, what kind of legacy will we leave for those who grieve for us? How do we learn to deal with our own grief and teach those after us to deal with theirs? How do we make sure that they know it’s OK to be sorrowful, have regrets, and live again? We can only record how it affected us. We can only share our own heartache and ask them to walk with us as I am asking you to walk with me.

My grief is not pretty. It‘s been very ugly at times. I have good days, bad days, and really, really, bad days, but I still have days. They matter, count, and are precious to me. I want you to know that yours are precious too and that grief eventually can be seen as a gift. It‘s an odd thing to call it a gift, but it is one because it proves that we are capable of love. Sometimes, knowing we are able to love is the best realization that we have, even when it comes late.

While this portion of my story is personal, I know from talking to others who are grieving that I am not alone. Every person’s story is unique, yet we all have things in common. I hope that by putting this into words, I can help you find a way to cope with your grief and understand that you are not alone.

26880.png

PART 1

How I Arrived Here

Listen to my words, Lord, consider my lament. Hear my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray.

(PSALM 5:1–2)

W hen I started to come out of the initial fog, I didn’t plan to write a book. All that had happened and the way I felt were confusing. I experienced a few good days and then a string of bad ones. I wanted to remember my dad because he was my dad. I didn’t want to remember him as a cancer patient, a dependent man, or a dying one.

I couldn’t find the space where my mind, heart, and soul were on the same page. My heart would mend, and my mind would reel. My heart would be torn to shreds, but I could think logically and concisely. I would focus on worship and listening to the Holy Spirit, but my brain would whir, and my chest would pound with anxiety.

Grief came with an intense amount of fear and an overwhelming dose of emotion. Because I was an emotional girl, it surprised me that I was so exhausted by it. I was accustomed to dealing with many things for other people, but dealing with this was my fight. I am not accustomed to fighting for myself in this manner.