It’s a tricky thing when you start to emerge from the fog of grief. Here you are, in the life you were in before. Yet it’s not how it should be. Yes, I am seeing friends. Yes, I am going places. Yes, I am talking to people again. And these are all good things. Because you have to live. There’s no other alternative. You are faced with tragedy, and there is no “out.” You don’t have a choice but to keep living. You live, but you are changed. The sadness, ache, and trauma that come in waves are never easy to deal with, but most of the change I have experienced has been good. I have an entirely new perspective on life now. I cherish everyone and everything. I am so much more thankful. I push away the rush of life, and I take my time. I don’t worry about the little things. I don’t allow myself to get angry. But, behind my smile, I am often crying. Behind my joyful tone, I am often weeping. Behind my cheerfulness, I am often sad.
I’ve always been a joyful person. “Full of sunshine” some would say. And I’ve always embraced and owned that part of myself. I love being that person. And, that part is still there. The past two months, I have fought so hard for that person. I have prayed and prayed for that person not to leave me. And only by the grace of God, she is still here. So when I speak of hope and joy, that’s real. I have felt so much of God’s peace and comfort these past few months that I could not begin to describe it to you. Because “blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5: 4). My happiness, joyfulness, my smiles, are all real. But, at the same time, I am still grieving. I am still hurting. I am still crying. To say it’s complicated is an understatement.
It doesn’t matter how much time has passed. When you have experienced tragic loss, you still hurt and ache just as much as the first day you said goodbye. A mama that lost a child 20 years ago still feels like it was yesterday. I know this, because I’ve talked to those mamas. You never get over it. Life goes on, but you think about and miss your child day in and day out. One common fear I have discovered in talking to other grieving parents is that other people will forget your child. So, my mission is to remind others of my beautiful little girl. To let her beautiful life live on. In the way that I live and in the way that I love. And this is nothing short of painful. Because I wish more than anything that she was here. That I didn’t have to remind others of her through my story. But, that is what God has given me. He has given me this story. And because it is from Him, it is good.
You may have seen me smiling and thought, “I don’t know how she is able to smile.” You may have talked to me and thought, “She has so much strength.” But, what I need others to know is that I am still weeping. Just as much as I ever have. The ache hasn’t gone away, even though my smile has come back. Because, when you are given a story like this, you have to own it. Even though you may not want to at times, you still trust in God. In the words of a sweet friend, it’s a broken but beautiful journey. Because even though I will ache for the rest of my life, at the end of it all, joy wins. Peace wins. God wins. The grief is there, but so is grace. And by the grace of God, I will keep living.
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