They Walked Away
A letter to the one who is left.
I know that this sudden loss has left you dazed, confused that such a thing could even happen to you. Perhaps you didn’t see it coming or maybe, in all honesty, you saw a change in the season of your relationship, but you hoped this season was taking you somewhere better and good – you didn’t imagine it would mean this abrupt ending.
I am sorry. I am well acquainted with unimaginable loss, how it engulfs you like a tsunami. You wonder if you will even survive. Even when the waters calm, your worst fears mutate into sharks of loneliness, grief, and pain. You hold onto whatever will keep you afloat as they circle, around and around and around. It will not always feel this way, I promise.
But there is work to do. You will grieve, turning this loss over and over, examining what brought you here. Some things will begin to make sense; others never will. You can’t understand every facet of another’s behavior and choices.
You will be angry – about this ending and a hundred other lesser things. It’s alright to feel, it will aid you as you begin to sort what to keep for a while longer, what to take to the burn barrel, match in hand. It’s hard to feel the intensity of your hurt and your grief but not feeling is choosing the side road toward a dead-end of not feeling anything – no hurt, but also no happiness. If you choose to not feel this anger, you will also choose, by default, soul-depriving numbness. The path to healing is through, not around.
I can tell you that years from now, some memory and flash of clarity will appear. You’ll hold it up to the light, using all the tools you are leaning on now, and acknowledge whatever emotion rises. And then again, you will either store it away until another time or you will be able to loosen your grip and let it go.
This will not “do you in.” Strength will rise from these ashes – I’ve seen it a hundred times. You will catch yourself smiling, feeling light and joyful. First, it will feel like opening an unexpected gift. Later, it will be how you live, happily wiser, courageously moving forward, joyful in your surviving, surprised by how you thrive. It’s true.
In spite of how you feel right now, you have loved well. It was hard, but you dedicated yourself to it and in spite of this horrible ending, you will love again – because you learned to love well when it was the most difficult. This too, is true. You have experienced one of the hardest things in life, but it will not define you, if you do the hard work now.
Forgive, even if you haven’t been forgiven.
Be kind, even though your own soul ached for lack of kindness.
Let this grief change you for good. Allow the strength and wisdom that you already possess to rise from it. Give it time and space to happen. Move toward it, but without hurry.
Build a new life by clearing away the rubble, piece by piece making room for your next chapter.
One more thing I want to remind you. You are surprised and shocked by this turn of events. But God is neither surprised nor dismayed. He hurts with you now. Later, you will look back and see how he brought comfort through those who had themselves, already walked down this path. You’ll see His hand in ways you are unable to comprehend right now. You’ll find that your ability to trust is not diminished by this circumstance but expanded and built strong - even in this.
Be as brave as it is possible to be in this moment. The courage you need will grow inside you and with it, hope will slowly emerge, then shine like the sunrise.


Kay this is so powerful. Wow. My best friend, absolute soul mate, more like a sister I never had walked away from 20 years of devoted friendship, just a year or so after she also left her husband. I hung on for two years trying to make it work, I’ve spent almost another two years unpacking it. I’m finally at peace, but there are days when the wave of grief returns and I have to remember that the person I loved is gone in more ways than one. Be grateful for what we had, and pray she finds her way out of the dark she is in. Your letter was a comfort on one of those days when the grief returned. Thank you.