A Time to Grieve

This is a post I’ve been putting off simply because it’s so personal and feels like being cut open and having your heart splayed out there for all to see. I’ve been fighting with myself about writing it. But what I’m feeling lead to do in this blog is to be real and brave and not afraid to talk about the journey each of us embarks on in this life. 

I have friends from different sectors of my life who are currently experiencing grief firsthand.  It’s bound to be a part of life unless we ourselves step out of turn and enter heaven before we know the deep loss of someone close to us. My life story is no better or worse than anyone else’s, but it’s mine. I share it because maybe somehow someone else can relate or find comfort in the journey I’ve been through. I don’t share it often because there’s really no way to accurately convey the depth of pain or the growth that came from it. People don’t know what to say when I tell it and it makes them uncomfortable, which makes me uncomfortable. And if I am to be honest, sometimes telling it is still a small stab in the heart. I don’t deny or diminish its impact, it’s just deeply personal.

I started learning about loss at a young age.  Growing up on a ranch, I learned to not get too attached to pets or farm critters because things happened to them. Death was as much a part of the cycle of life as life itself.  Losing people is harder. I lost four friends, peers, before I ever graduated high school.  I came to understand that no one is guaranteed tomorrow. No one. Ever. Three days after our second child was born, my dad’s closest brother and my only grandma died in the same week. Talk about a roller coaster of emotions as we rejoiced in this beautiful beginning of a new life and the ending of two others. I was so sad, but I understood that life has a start and a finish line for every single one of us. 

That beautiful new life, our sweet blond-haired, blue-eyed son, 17 months later suddenly became very ill, went into a coma and died two weeks later. Doctors believe it was a genetic metabolic screw up that is very rare, but happens. We knew nothing of what had been going on inside his little body until he became so sick that he couldn’t recover. It was not something compatible with longevity of life. Much of that two weeks in the hospital with our son is still a blur. What came after he passed was days, weeks, months of time that seemed unbearable at times. We had a four-year-old daughter who I was determined would not know the complete depth of our pain.  We celebrated her fourth birthday just days after our son left us. 

Grief is such a heavy burden to bear. It’s exhausting and the hardest work you will ever do. We want to quantify its depth and compare it to other’s losses just to find some meaning and perspective.  When people would say, “I know what you’re going through”, I wanted to scream, “No, you don’t!  You’ve never lost a child”. But the simple fact is that loss is loss and people feel all depths of it. Just recently I heard this quote and I nodded in agreement, “Grief is different for everyone and it’s different every time.” That is so, so true and we just need to give grace for any level of grief that someone else is experiencing.  It also doesn’t have a timeline or an end point. Loss of someone you love creates a hole in the heart that never totally gets filled.  It gets smaller, but it’s always there. I lost a dear friend about two years ago and am still struggling with how much I miss his presence in my life. 

Were I not a person of great faith, I don’t know how I would have moved past the magnitude of grief over the years. But I know absolutely that God is good and that we can’t begin to fathom what waits for us when we leave this earthly life. I’m grateful for every day that I had with those I’ve lost and I cling to the hope that it’s not the last time I will see them  If you’re in the midst of grieving someone right now, know that you are not alone. Know that time will help.  Know that you won’t get out of bed one day and magically suddenly feel better. But you WILL feel better. It will, eventually, become like an old friend that gives you comfort instead of pain.  Until then, take one moment at a time. I once described grief to a friend like this: “First there are bad days. Then there are bad days with good moments. Then there are good days with bad moments. Then there are good days with good memories.”  However long it takes is however long it takes. Allow yourself to feel it all. Then allow yourself to begin to move forward. Only you can decide what that looks like and for how long. But know that it does get easier and you can find joy again. My son taught me all about that.