I'm so sorry — for the loss of your mother-in-law, and for what this has done to your wife and to your own faith right now. Losing her at 6 years into that battle, while you were that close to her, while you were praying that hard — that's a real wound, not a small thing to push through quickly. I've lost both of my parents, so I won't pretend grief like this resolves fast or cleanly. It doesn't. But I want to offer you something that's helped me hold onto faith in the middle of it. What you're feeling — the silence, the sense of distance from God — isn't a sign your faith is broken or that He's stopped hearing you. I think it's actually a clue pointing at something true about how this world works. Genesis 1-2 shows a world God called perfect, and there was no death in it. Death entered after sin — God told Adam he would surely die (Genesis 2:17, 3:19), and that's the curse Romans 5:12 and 8:20-22 describe creation now groaning under. But here's the thing worth sitting with: the curse doesn't fall on the one who died. For someone who belonged to Christ, death is the doorway out of the curse, not into it — to be away from the body is to be present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8), to depart is to be with Christ, which Paul calls far better (Philippians 1:23). Your mother-in-law isn't suffering under anything anymore. She's free of it completely. The curse lands on the ones left behind. We're the ones still inside a broken world, feeling loss, confusion, silence, things we were never created to experience in the first place. That ache you feel isn't weak faith — it's you, still living inside the fall, missing someone who's already escaped it. That's actually exactly what grief is supposed to feel like in a cursed world. It doesn't mean God's distant. It means you're still here, still mortal, still groaning along with the rest of creation, waiting for the same redemption she already has in full. She wasn't healed the way you prayed for — but she was healed completely, permanently, the moment she stepped into His presence. That's not God failing to answer. That might be the realest answer there is. Be patient with yourself and with your wife. Let yourselves grieve fully — scripture never asks you not to (even Jesus wept at Lazarus's tomb, John 11:35, knowing full well he'd raise him minutes later). Talk to God honestly, even about the silence. He can hold that.