met in real life--though we connected because of this
awful cancer--) sent me this thing on grief that I
found so truly wonderful.
It is so great I wanted to share it.
It described things so well. It's from that popular
Facebook page "Mitchell's Journey".
And it so clearly says what I feel and cannot yet find
a way to put into words.
I especially like the part that I've underlined. It is
NOT a choice to simply rise above it, grief and sadness
STILL exist, it is not something we can will away, pray
away, hope away....it simply is a part of our souls
because we loved the person who is gone so deeply.
I've said it before and I will say it again, the
LONELINESS is unreal for me. I feel more alone than
I've ever felt in my life. Despite ALL the hugs and
kindness, my "go to guy", the one who held me close in
my darkest hours, the one who whispered in my ear it
would "be okay", the one who loved me despite the way
I looked or acted, that guy? He's gone.
I said to my kids last night through a multitude of
tears, "I'm truly alone in this thing."
Olivia (my 11 year old) looked at me and said,
"Yup you are mom!"
Now before everyone gets their panties in a wad and thinks,
"well I have been a friend, I've helped, I've called/texted/
messaged/emailed, brought food, sent a note....."
YOU'RE RIGHT! You have all (so so so many of you!!)
done so so so many kind and wonderful things.
Of which I am 1000 times over appreciative of....
Please don't think they don't matter to me--
THEY DO!!!!!
But still, not one of you can come hold me at night
when I weep.
Not one of you can let me lay in your arms and comfort
me and tell me I'll be okay.
Not one of you can fill that hole, that hole that feels
bottomless to me right now, that hole that was once
Kyle.
It aches.
I ache.
There are things that I do that LITERALLY make my heart
hurt, like its coming apart inside my chest.
A real physical pain that is awful.
I'm sorry to be "Dorien Downer"....but man oh man
loosing your best friend is hard.
I told my kids I was jealous that for the most part
everyone else that is missing Kyle has a spouse to go
home to, a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold them
tightly in bed at night when the hour is the darkest
and the saddest feelings come.
I've tried holding myself in bed at night, and it's
just awkward and doesn't really work. My arms don't
wrap around tightly enough, I guess.
I will leave you with this tidbit for today
from the author of Mitchell's journey.
It seems grief is universal in it's feelings honestly.
I have spent the last (almost) 2 years posting about my grief and my love, my faith and my flaws. Though I write of grief, I do not live in a constant state of grief. I used to live in a constant state of deep sorrow, but not today. Each day is a little sunnier than the day before. To be clear, I have hard things yet to share; stories of grief and sorrow that come from the darkest corners of the soul. I will share them not because I am there, but because I was there. I hope that in sharing it helps others who are drowning in a sea of grief – for I know those dark waters and they are scary beyond belief. To all of you that hurt, I want you to know how much I care.
When I think about my son I smile and my heart swells with love and longing. Sometimes, and sometimes often, when I think of Mitch I cry. I shut my door to my office and I weep a million and ten tears. When I’m done heaving in sorrow, when the emotional storm has passed, I then wipe those tears away and I face the day the best I know how. That is all I can do sometimes, and I think that’s okay.
One of the many things I admire about Natalie is she always seems to find a reason for joy. Though her heart aches in the worst way, she makes the best of every single day. And that is contagious.
In my own grief journey I've discovered heartbreak and grief exist despite the choice to remain in or rise above it. The best way to help others out of grief, I have learned, is to love those that hurt and give heavy hearts time to heal. It is an exquisitely personal and individual journey.
Grief hurts because we love and miss our dear ones. It hurts because they are gone and we want them back. There is nothing wrong with hurting … and it will always hurt. The more I contemplate my own grief journey I'm beginning to wonder if the key to finding joy while living with chronic grief is learning to not mind that it hurts.
When I think about my son I smile and my heart swells with love and longing. Sometimes, and sometimes often, when I think of Mitch I cry. I shut my door to my office and I weep a million and ten tears. When I’m done heaving in sorrow, when the emotional storm has passed, I then wipe those tears away and I face the day the best I know how. That is all I can do sometimes, and I think that’s okay.
One of the many things I admire about Natalie is she always seems to find a reason for joy. Though her heart aches in the worst way, she makes the best of every single day. And that is contagious.
In my own grief journey I've discovered heartbreak and grief exist despite the choice to remain in or rise above it. The best way to help others out of grief, I have learned, is to love those that hurt and give heavy hearts time to heal. It is an exquisitely personal and individual journey.
Grief hurts because we love and miss our dear ones. It hurts because they are gone and we want them back. There is nothing wrong with hurting … and it will always hurt. The more I contemplate my own grief journey I'm beginning to wonder if the key to finding joy while living with chronic grief is learning to not mind that it hurts.
Dorien, you are perfectly right in everything you said. You are helping people understand how you are feeling and they need to hear it. Thank you for being brave enough to be vulnerable.
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