When Grief Leaves You Unraveled But God Brings Purpose

There’s a quote I recently shared that struck me to my core by Mark Lemon: “The day that you died a thread was pulled from my soul and life unraveled before my eyes. This wasn’t a cut or a broken bone, it was an immeasurable pain that shattered everything that once was. The thread signified a displacement, a pain like no other.”

I know this displacement well. Every day since losing my husband, Kingsley, I wake up feeling that pain. Grief is like a thread pulled out of everything I once knew to be normal, unraveling my sense of stability, purpose, and even identity. It’s a pain that can’t quite be explained; it’s not a physical wound but something that shakes you to the core, leaving you forever changed.

I remember one of the darkest days, a moment so raw that it still echoes in my mind. I had been holding it together for so long, trying to manage the children, deal with the mundane tasks of life, and keep a brave face. But then came that moment when the weight was too much. I screamed so loud, louder than I ever thought possible, and it wasn’t just a scream—it was a release of everything inside me, the disbelief, the pain, the confusion. Neighbors came running, thinking something terrible had happened, and honestly, in that moment, I think something had. A part of me had broken under the pressure of all the unanswered questions that had been swirling in my mind: How is this happening? Why is this happening?

But those questions never get answers, at least not ones that make sense. Grief doesn’t offer explanations, and no answer could ever justify the depth of loss we feel when someone so important is taken away.

Yet here I am, somehow still standing. Grief has destroyed something in me, but at the same time, it has also revealed something unexpected: a calling. I didn’t know that when I started sharing my journey, when I began speaking about my grief and the unbearable pain of losing Kingsley, that I was doing more than just releasing my emotions—I was giving others permission to release theirs too. What started as my own desperate way of processing loss turned into something so much bigger than me.

At first, I wasn’t sure why I kept sharing. I thought it was just for me, a way to cope, to process. But as time went on, a year after Kingsley’s passing, my inbox and DMs started to fill up—not just with people who had lost their spouses, but with individuals who had lost brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers. People who had been walking their own paths of grief but had felt so alone. They began sharing their stories with me, and over and over again, they told me that my openness, my rawness, had given them hope. Somehow, in sharing my own grief, I was unknowingly helping others understand that they were allowed to feel their pain, to grieve however they needed, and that they weren’t alone.

That’s when I began to realise that perhaps there was a purpose in my pain after all. Maybe I was meant to bring hope to others who felt hopeless, to show them that even when the world unravels, there’s still a thread of life left to hold on to.

One of the most humbling things has been the response to my free guide, Walking Through Grief. I never imagined that something as simple as walking—something I had done to reconnect with myself—could resonate so deeply with others. But it has. So many people have downloaded it, and the feedback has been overwhelming. They’ve told me how something as small as taking steps, both physically and emotionally, has helped them find moments of clarity in their own grief.

If you haven’t downloaded it yet, I encourage you to give it a try. You’ll find that walking isn’t just about moving your body; it’s about moving your soul through the fog of grief. It’s a way to start reconnecting with the world, even when it feels like everything has fallen apart.

And my eBook —Walking Away The Grief—wow. The reception has been beyond anything I could have imagined. It’s so personal to me, and I’m grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read it and send their thoughts. If you haven’t grabbed a copy yet, please do. I would love to hear how it has impacted your journey, whether it has brought you a little closer to healing or helped you find some sense of peace in the chaos.

There are so many personal messages I’ve received that I haven’t been able to share publicly, but I hold them close to my heart. Some of them are too raw, too personal, but they’ve allowed me to reconnect with people in ways I never thought possible after so much time spent isolated in my grief. It’s comforting to know that people weren’t thrown off by my distance, and they have continued to support me, even when I wasn’t speaking much. This journey is tough—tougher than I ever imagined—and I don’t expect everyone to understand. But for those who have stuck by me, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I invite you all to join the conversation. Share your thoughts, your stories, your questions. Let’s keep this journey going together, because while grief may leave us unravelled, we don’t have to navigate it alone. Subscribe, and let’s keep talking.

Sending love and light your way💚

Doris King 💫