You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought as I scrolled past the words on my feed.
My heart sunk as I scrolled the post on my feed. An aquaintance had posted a picture of her beloved family pet they had put down that morning. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been through,” she wrote.
I don’t doubt it was hard or even the hardest thing she’d gone through yet. But her statement caught me short.
At once, I compared our loss to her.
I’d been reeling from the sudden death of my husband at 47 years old. Every dream and plan we’d had together had been buried with him. I’d not only walked through my excruciating grief but watched our seven children push through theirs.
I’d faced countless decisions on my own. I’d learned how to fix the washer and how to manage a rental house which was way outside my skillset. I’d parented tough seasons with my kids alone, begged God to help me raise them to adults and spent night after lonely night with the ache of missing.
It had taken God’s grace and everything in me to let go of the life we had and take hold of the new life that was.
I knew the death of a family pet was hard, but her words stung as I instinctively compared our hardest loss with hers.
Now before you think I’m a completely awful friend, my spirit immediately checked me (and I felt like a heel). I knew comparison was meaningless and my reaction was wrong.
This wasn’t the first time I’d been tempted to compare loss.
After my husband’s death, I heard many well-meaning offers of understanding. “I know what you’re feeling. My husband was deployed for 18 months.” Or “I went through this after my great-aunt died.”
Other losses seemed exponentially harder than ours, like my friend whose young husband and only two children were killed in a single accident. My grief felt reasonable when compared to her tragedy.
But comparing grief is meaningless.
Is it harder to lose a child? Or a parent as a child? Is it harder on a family for the mom or the dad to die? Or saying goodbye slowly after diagnosis or suddenly without notice? Is it harder for a widow with young children or a widow after her nest has emptied?
Yes.
It’s all hard and it all hurts.
Which is why comparing grief is futile.
Even in a roomful of widows, the losses are different. Each one of us has different marriages, different experiences and different issues that make up unique kinds of loss.
“Weep with those who weep,” we’re instructed in Romans 12:15.
Nothing is said about first determining the kind of hurt or size of the hurt. We’re not told to compare our grief and see whose is worse. Or weigh whose grief is big enough to count or to warrant our empathy.
We’re simply told to weep with one another. To acknowledge each other’s pain and loss and to walk with each other through it.
No pain is too big for God nor too small.
That day when I read my friend’s words, God immediately checked me. And so, righting my heart, I prayed for her and replied back with a sincere condolence.
She was hurting. And her real hurt didn’t in any way diminish my own. God’s grace is deep enough for us both.
This post first appeared at A Widow's Might.

Just wonderful! Coming off a weekend of endless comparisons, this is food for my soul. Thank you for sharing your heart. We have all been there and done that.
Yes! The enemy would love us to become bitter…Oh for eyes to see as God does.
It was an act of generosity for you to express sympathy for your friend who had lost her family pet. To do so in our own overwhelming grief requires laying our mourning on the altar, I think. Thanks for your example.
Beautiful words, Allison. ❤️
Excellent post. What helps me to remember “pain is pain”.
Yes, that’s it exactly, Jerry.
This post only shows you are human with human emotions but, the Holy Spirit spoke to you and you listened a Wonderful lesson in humility on your part, no way should you be a shamed you are forgiven!! This I know took a lot for you to post! Thank you for sharing we all have those moments in our life!! Much Love and prayers to you and your family
Thank you for sharing this, Lisa! After my diagnosis, my problems seemed so much larger than the trivial things I used to think were difficult. I cried for what I’d lost – the choice to ever live at home again (FL weather affects my brain and vestibular system),near my family and lifelong friends, my church, etc. But God loves me too much to let me dwell in sorrow! He showed me the truth that I was fearfully and wonderfully made. Much more “good” has come out of this, than I ever imagined. I’m so thankful that God led me in the right direction, not to dwell in sorrow, not to look at life in the category of before diagnosis and after diagnosis. I too, had a difficult time seeing all the “normal” joyful and sad posts from friends. The enemy was quick to whisper defeat in my ears, but God, BUT GOD, in all oh His goodness and love, taught me and is still teaching me how great His love is for me! It’s such a blessing to let go of comparing and to just live fully, right where God has me!
What a road God has taken you on, Terri! What the enemy intends for harm, God uses for good.Thank you for sharing this!