The thing about grief, is it’s different for everyone.
For me it hit like waves, some just gently nudging me backwards, others pulling me down completely with their force. Sometimes it feels like I’ve never felt the touch of the ocean, and other times it still feels as though I’m drowning in it.
My life vest has always been my children, then my husband, the safety of my home, and the comfort of my routines. Slowly pulling me away from the waves, to shore, to safety. I honestly don’t know what I would do without those things keeping me afloat.
Some people cope with alcohol, with staying busy, with drugs, with sex, with hurting those closest to them or pushing the world away. Some people have never felt those waves of grief, never had to hear someone tell them someone they had loved so much was gone. Had died. Passed away. Is in a better place. Whatever.
Those people sometimes find it hard to understand the waves that come, but maybe, just maybe, it takes almost drowning to learn how to fully swim. Maybe people who have felt themselves pulled down so low that they didn’t know how they would ever survive, just see things differently.
Maybe we are more compassionate, more empathetic, more forgiving, more anxious, more aware.
Maybe that’s our gift for surviving, or maybe it’s our burden, I’ll never be sure.
All I know, is I long for the day those waves can brush up against me, without pain, or anger or sorrow pulling me down with them. I long for the day I can reach my hands out, touch those waves, those memories, those lost moments, and feel that great love that I was blessed enough to share.
How lucky am I after all, that I had that time, that love, that was strong enough to create such powerful waves in my life.