(An Interesting Insight On What It’s Like To Be “In Grief”)


Today, I stumbled upon a PERFECT PICTURE of what it feels like when I am in grief.

You know, when you NEED to do something.  I mean REALLY need  do something, but you JUST can’t!

It’s like everything in you WANTS TO, but something is stopping you.

Yep.  That’s what it’s like being me sometimes, when grief has moved back in.

I have SO MUCH I need to accomplish.

I am starting all over.

I am rebuilding my new life.

In a new city.

In a new state.

But, when grief comes in and takes up all that space in my brain, it’s like…I JUST CAN’T right now.

So, back to the PERFECT PICTURE that I mentioned.

I went outside today and was about to pick up some blankets that were rained on to take them in to wash.

I saw this little guy.  In Texas, we call them “locust”.

He was in the process of shedding his old skin.

But, he wasn’t ready to fly yet.

Seems like even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t do it right then.

Oh, he was able to “before.”

But once this “shedding” process took place, he had to let it run its course, before he could fly again.

How do I know?

Well, as I ran to grab my camera.  I thought, “that little guy is me!”

I hurried back thinking, “I hope I don’t miss it…”  And, I caught him shedding his skin after being almost halfway out.

I thought, I’m gonna see how long it takes…maybe get it on video (which I did…National Geographic style stuff!) 😉


eyes looking at me

Anyway, as I kept filming him, I could see his incredible eyes, just staring at me.

I mean a lock down stare.

I had compassion on him.

I related to this guy.

I feel that way.

When someone is asking me a question.  And I want to answer them.

But, no matter how hard I try, I JUST CAN’T right then.

And I kinda give them a big blank stare, while my brain is trying to recalibrate and find the answer.

Even for myself, when I’m alone and I need to get things done.  And I just can’t.

Anyway, back to this little guy…

I’m staring at him, like only inches away from his face and filming him and I thought…

Oh my gosh!

He probably WANTS to get away from me.


Isn’t that SO WILD?!

I ended up filming him coming completely out of his “old skin.”

And EVEN THEN, he was still NOT READY  to fly, yet.

You see, one wing looked all spread out and ready for flight.

But the other?


It was stilled very curled up.

Gotta give it time to flatten back out, like the other one.

I was like, wow….

I kept watching.

I thought, that guy has NO CONTROL over how long this process takes.

He just has to wait.

And yep.

I couldn’t help but think of the parallel of those of us in grief.

Perhaps I’ll  post the video on my “understanding grief” instagram  IGTV account.

It will blow your mind.



I have such compassion on each one of you, my grieving friends.

As, I am in the process of learning to have great compassion on myself.

We are trying.

We really are.

But sometimes, we just have to let the process of grieving takes its time.

And when we are in the middle of it, and something is required of us, something that we really need to do, or want to do… sometimes, we just have to take a deep breath and say,

“I just can’t right now.”


letting go


P. S.   It’s been about an hour and another rain shower has gone by.  I went outside just to check and…

 he’s still there.  This time he is right back next to his old skin that he came out of, almost snuggling or cuddling it.  Man!  You just can’t make this stuff up.

I see so much parallel.

I’m sure, when he can, he will fly off.

And so will I.

And so will you.

But, we just can’t right now.


My name is Rebecca.

My husband always called me Bec.

His name was Ruben Steven Cortez.

I called him, Rube.

We loved each other like crazy.

We had a love that others would tell me they only dreamed of…

He was my best friend, my counselor, my pastor, my business coach, my greatest love.

I loved how he loved me and how he loved others.

We worked together and were in ministry together for almost 23 years.

On December 11th, 2016 my beautiful Rube, suddenly and unexpectedly suffered a stroke in his sleep.

I called 911. I gave him CPR. I remember it very vividly. I cried out, “Don’t you dare die on me, Rube!”

He never regained consciousness.

I say that when he left this world, half my heart went with him.

And it did.

We were one.

Now I am half.

I have been learning how to live with half a heart.

I have been learning how to live the unimaginable.

At the hospital, when I realized he was not going to regain consciousness, somehow and only by the grace of God, I uttered these words,


I have asked Jesus to not let any of this go to waste.

And to teach me what grief looks like from His perspective.

In my writings, I share how I have survived the horrific while miraculously having hope.

I will be painfully honest, as I share how I quickly recognized a glaring gap in our culture to understand grief and how to love others well, who are experiencing it.

I hope by doing so, to somehow encourage those who suffer silently in their pain, as others in the blogging community and social media world of instagram have done for me. I also pray that in some small way it will bring more awareness and help close what I call the “grief gap” that is so prevalent in our misinformed and uniformed society.

To all who have gone before me I say a heartfelt thank you.

I thank God for you.

You were used to help keep me sane during some of the worst pain of my life.

To my beautiful daughter Jess and my dearest friend, Cindy, thank you BOTH for journeying with me like none others.

Certainly not an easy thing to do.

I literally think I would have lost my mind, if it hadn’t been for you both.

We all have much to learn, especially myself of how to love better, live better and better understand grief.

Rebecca King Cortez, “Bec”

Instagram: @rebeccacortez