When I was asked me for the 1000th time after my mother died, “How I was doing?” I began to say “OK”. What could I say? There was only so much that I wanted to share with others – and only so much that others wanted to know.
I got so tired of telling people I was “OK”, and listening to the sayings of “at least she had a long life” or you had “at least you had years with her” – or “she is with Jesus now.” I know they meant well, but I wanted to say “I don’t give a F&&K that she is with Jesus – I want my Mom.
I also realized that they were wrong, and right when they said the “pain will get better”, my pain is not as intense as it was when I learned that my mother died – but it has never gone away – and it never will.
My grief goes with me everywhere I go. It has been part of my life, since 2009. It’s quiet on some days, and in my face on others. Sometimes it feels like an elephant on my chest and on other days it feels like a blanket. It is always present. It’s always there. It has become part of me. It has re-defined me
“Over The years I’ve learned that grief is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corner of your eyes, the lump in your throat, the sick feeling in your stomach and in that hollow part of your chest. The hardest part of losing someone isn’t having to say goodbye, but rather learning to live without them. Always trying to fill the void, the emptiness that’s left inside your heart when they go away.” Leisha Oteto Dixon (My Sister)
Grief is a heavy load. It’s a load that I carry. It’s a load that I have taught myself to carry differently. It’s a load that I will carry for the rest of my life – as I will love my mom for the rest of my life.
Grief is the price we pay for love. Grief is love. We have loved and what we loved, we cannot any longer have or hold. So we grieve that love. Grief is all about love.