Grief Doesn’t Go Away
When I was little, I often found myself looking to the future. I was always planning for my days ahead. I would lay out the outfits I wanted to wear for the entire week in a neat row. Each outfit would come complete with a pair of shoes and needed accessories. I wanted to be prepared for what was to come. After all, it was fairly easy to prepare for the next day when my only worries were a science project and who I would sit next to at lunch.
Now, I look back on those days with envy. I never had late nights wondering what my next day would look like. I didn’t realize the harsh realities of life. I thought that I could always be prepared because I did not imagine there was anything bad to have to anticipate. I never imagined that the worst would happen to me — until it did.
I very vividly remember Thanksgiving Day of 2013. That was the last day I ever spent with my mother. I frequently replay it over and over. Each step. Each breath. Each movement. That day will always be a part of me. When I woke up at 6:30 am the next day, I would find myself motherless. I would find myself broken, alone, with the ground beneath me shattered. I had not prepared for her to die so unexpectedly. I sure as hell didn’t pick out a pair of shoes the night before that would hold me steady through that moment. I had not prepared for this.
We never truly expect that the worst will happen, so we don’t prepare for it. In fact, I would say we even avoid thinking that the worst is even a possibility. It won’t happen, so we won’t think about it. Until it does. Then, what do we do?
I am coming up on the six year anniversary since my mother passed. When I was 18, I did not think I would see 19. The pain of losing her was too much to bear. I truly thought I would die from a broken heart. I had stopped looking to the future, because a future without my mother was not one I cared to be a part of.
This feeling passed. There was healing, and my heart began to mend. I eventually saw 19, then 20, and so on. But, my grief did not go away. There is still a day-by-day aspect to my life now. I’ve experienced the unplanned, the unexpected, the unwanted, and the unfathomable. While I still pick out my clothes for the next day, I now know I can only prepare so much for tomorrow.
Grief does not go away. Grief is a constant companion. My grief looks different now than it did six years ago, but it is still right here with me. The difference is that now, I have hope. I can hope for tomorrow. I can hope for little reminders of my mother’s love. I can choose hope as a constant companion.
Read more on Lifeafterloss.net
