There is no nice way to say it.
This week has reminded me of how blessed I am to get live each and every day.
And at the same time it has reminded me just how quickly it can all change.
My new husband’s father is critically ill. And the family may have to make decisions regarding withdrawing care. And while I am trying to be strong and supportive, this is a HUGE grief trigger for me.
I feel like it is September 2014 all over again.
Praying for a miracle.
Realizing that prayer may not be answered. So instead praying for the suffering to end.
Why does death hit so much harder since I lost Jared?
Hurt so much more?
Feel like a grief tsunami?
I want to throw my hands up in the air and yell ENOUGH!
In my 49 years on this earth, I have become a pro at death.
Saying I’m fine when really I’m drowning.
Knowing who to call and what to say.
Being strong for others when I just want to scream and lose my shit.
Crying in private so my grief doesn’t upset anyone else.
Offering others a shoulder to cry on when I just want to collapse under the weight of it all.
Tired of losing loved ones.
Tired of sharing the bad news.
Tired of being the resident death expert.
And at the same time I know I’m blessed.
Blessed to have known a love that death cannot end.
Blessed to have the tools and knowledge to help those who come after me.
Blessed to have an amazing tribe who support me in my darkest days.
Sometimes this widowed life is too much. But I wouldn’t trade my love with Jared. Our love was worth every ounce of grief. And I am fortunate to have loved and been loved beyond measure.
As I’m flying to be with my new husband on his darkest days, I wish death wasn’t such a familiar part of my life.
That I wasn’t the resident grief expert.
That I didn’t know what to expect.
But unfortunately I know it all too well.