Getting Real About My Grief

Grief isn’t finite, it’s not black and white, it doesn’t ever go away completely, and it really cannot be described with words. I mean, you can try to find words to describe it and I’ve heard many metaphors describing what grief feels like, but none of those words or metaphors really do it justice.

Grief is deeply personal.

It’s the process of becoming after loss. Becoming something and someone after. With an event, in my case, my mom’s death, there is a before and an after. There is a before she died, the memories from my childhood, the time we spent together, my entire life before. And then there is the after. After she is gone, the figuring out how to move forward without her. 

Some nights, especially right after she passed, I couldn’t lie in my bed. I would try, but I just couldn’t, so I would take my weighted blanket and my soft blanket and I would move to the couch in our playroom upstairs, turn on Gilmore Girls, and fall asleep curled up with my blankets and cushions. At first my husband wondered if he did something wrong. And I wondered if there was something wrong with me too. Then, I read in one of my grief pamphlets I had gotten from hospice that that is common. Sometimes, you can’t sleep when you’re grieving, and they suggested trying to sleep somewhere else in your house. So I did, and it worked. It gave me permission to take my blankets to the spare couch those nights I was left staring at the ceiling long after my family was asleep. I allowed myself to surrender to what is, and did what felt good and right for me at that time. 

That’s what grief is about. You can’t and won’t understand someone else’s grief. Don’t try. But do give them grace. Do tell them they are loved. Do reach out and just say hi.

Grief is messy. I’ve had my share of grief in the last 5 years of my life. I’ve waded through it, been up to my neck in it, and had several moments where I felt like I was drowning in it. But I’ve always come up for air.

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