Those Moments You Can’t Forget

There are some moments I just can’t forget.

The way my Grandma’s hand went up to meet her head as she looked down into my Grandpa’s casket.
The lump in my throat watching.

The look on my husbands face at the bottom of the stairs when he told me he found out his mom would not get better.
My heart racing.

The last hug from my best friend.
The anxiety that shifted to relief, in thinking (hoping) we’d see each other again.

The wave goodbye to my Gram at her door step as we pulled away from her home, us both knowing it would be the last time we’d see one another.
The burst of tears that flowed out of me, unstoppable.

These are some of the wounds I’ve worked so hard to heal over the years, amongst many others. If I sit for too long, press too hard, I can transport back and still feel the ache they all caused. A huge part of grieving is allowing these moments to come, and to pass, each time.

There is a richness to life when we embrace death and all of life’s uncertainties. We absolve ourselves from living perfectly, to allowing ourselves to live authentically. Depth in understanding runs deeper, empathy widens, and even love strengthens beyond what we could ever imagine. It’s such a wonderful moment to realize a greater presence in your own life, with yourself, your kids, your spouse, your loved ones. Such depth and deepening of love comes at a great cost. Losing someone often comes with finding a new piece of ourselves. Joyful moments can be tainted with sadness. Presence can come with a jolt of memories and yearning for more time. Love can oscillate between feeling more guarded and becoming more open.

There is no advice, tips, or tricks at the end of this writing. Just an encouragement to remain open to whatever your experience in grief entails. It’s a reminder that as alone as you may feel sometimes, you’re truly not. Space for more connection is available when you’re ready. You may simply be able to lean into who is already there, or you may have to seek it out. There is still sweetness that can revolve around sorrow. Some moments the sorrow will overwhelm, let it. Other moments the sweetness will take precedence, let it. And when both feel undeniably stitched together, let yourself feel however you need in that moment. Take expectations and pressures off yourself for the way things are “supposed” to be or look, and allow yourself space for just the way things are.

Here’s to grieving unapologetically, to showing up authentically, and allowing life to feel bigger than death.