I collect beautiful journals. Soft leather covers, cream pages, all waiting for the right moment. That moment came after Mama passed, and I finally opened one. Here are 5 grief journal prompts for losing a parent, the real ones I actually used, Scripture-anchored and honest enough for the hardest nights.
I keep dreaming that Mama is alive. The dreams are heavy and funny at the same time. Kind of like grief itself. Anger at God during grief doesn’t always arrive loud. Sometimes it arrives as a dream you keep having. Here’s what I learned when I finally stopped hiding it from Him.
I heard her before I saw her. Eevee, two years old, singing ee-ay-ee-ay-yow to the TV while I folded laundry. And before I could stop it, the thought was already there: if only you were here, Mama. This is for every woman who is still somebody’s grieving daughter, even while her children need her to be whole.
Most days the grief stays quiet, tucked somewhere behind the busyness of feeding the kids and getting through the afternoon. But then the house goes still, and in the quiet, they find me. Not in a dramatic way. More like a slow ache. A wish that they were here to see this, all of this, the little moments I still reach for the phone to share with them. These are the bible verses for losing a parent that found me in those nights. The ones that stopped me. The ones that felt like they were written for exactly this season.
Before, I would call Mama. Phone on speaker, her voice in my ear like a podcast made just for me. Now I dial and nobody picks up. This is what losing both parents did to my faith — and the Father who never stopped picking up.
March 23, 2006 — the date written inside the cover of a Bible I received at twelve and did not truly open for nearly twenty years. What followed were degrees, careers, continents, and loss. This is the story of what it cost me. And what I found when I finally came home to it.
I was good at it — the milestones, the career, the identity of a woman who had everything figured out. What I never saw coming was the day I would walk away from all of it. But in the quiet of a life I never planned, something I had been missing finally came into view.
Within nine months, I lost both my parents — thousands of miles away, pregnant, with a toddler in my arms. It felt cruel. It felt unbearable. But this is also my testimony: God never left me in the storm. And grief, I learned, can become the very place where faith begins to grow.
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