Talking about grief. It’s not inspirational or even very positive, but it’s reality. Just like death and love, It’s something that everyone will experience in their life. Some grief is more overwhelming and encompassing than others. But we all deal with it to some degree.
Since Killian died, I’ve been working so hard on trying to find the positive. And that’s good. It’s a wonderful thing. But the sadness is so real. And I deserve to feel it. To let it have its time.
Grief is such a strange feeling. Its like nothing I’ve ever felt before. If I had to compare it to something, strangely enough it would be that feeling when you first start to fall in love. It’s so big and overwhelming. It’s always in your mind, no matter what you’re doing. It gives you the butterflies in your stomach (only these are more like moths I guess, not quite as beautiful).
It has a crafty way of stalking around you and then unexpectedly attacking. You always know it’s there, following along, but sometimes you think you’re safe. You forget for a few minutes or more. Then it pounces and takes you out.
It’s so demanding. It’s exhausting to always have it sitting on your shoulders. I feel like my energy is depleted, even on my good days, and there are a lot of them thankfully. I said to Dean last night that I was feeling guilty for being selfish. I said that I was tired of always missing him. Of feeling that lingering sadness and weight all of the time. But I’m grateful for it too. It’s let’s me know that he’s still with me all of the time.
It’s sly too, it camouflages itself and then pops out when you least expect it. Something as simple as folding laundry can bring it out in all its dark glory. Its intensity will take you to your knees and knock the wind out of you.
I don’t know why I want to talk about it. I think it’s because it’s such a large part of my life now. It’s like Mount Everest. Looming and huge and intimidating. It’ll probably take lots of tries to climb to the top, but I like to think that it’s possible. With lots of hard work and practice. And I think exploring the feelings and acknowledging them is the start of that. Maybe I’ve made it to base camp.
I don’t want pity. This is part of my life now. It will never go away. But maybe if we can all understand it a bit more, and talk about it more freely, it will be less intimidating. We’re stronger in numbers right? I’m not someone who likes to share my feelings all that much. I’m not a huge hugger, and I absolutely hate crying in front of people. But the feelings are there. And just knowing that people are there if, and when, I need it is the most I could ask for.
So if you can, talk about your grief. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Power in numbers. It takes a village to raise a child. Maybe it takes a village to grieve that child too.