Grief extends far past the funeral. People face grief after loss daily. Because when we lose someone, the entire landscape of our life changes. We grieve, not only the person but their place in our lives and in our hopes and dreams.
Their absence changes everything about what we see and what the future looks like. And in a lot of ways, their absence changes what we thought we would look like.
I’ve found so much healing in allowing myself to acknowledge and grieve these daily losses along the way.
I allow myself to feel the underlying sorrow in the celebratory moments because my heart aches for the one who isn’t there to see it. To mourn the moments and the memories we won’t get to make together that I always thought we would. I allow myself to ache and lament because a huge part of who I am and who I’ve always been was expressed through that relationship. So, now I have to learn different ways to feel and carry that love forward now that they’re gone.
This process gives me permission: to make room to mourn the memories. I thought we’d get to make, to make space to say “it wasn’t supposed to be this way”. And to grieve the painful reality that the layout of my life has changed.
But as I allow myself to feel the grief, I also remind myself that part of this process is allowing myself to feel the unexpected moments of hope as well.
I allow myself to soak in a cherished memory and find comfort there when I’m ready. I search for ways to share my loved one’s legacy as I look for their love. Seek their presence in my heart. Pour it out into my day in whatever way my hurting heart can manage. I allow myself to feel awed by the world and to be surprised by joy’s ability to still find me. To feel the rays of a hard-fought hopefulness on the horizon. I allow my heart to be a home for love despite its unexpected visitor, grief.
It’s a hard and messy journey. It requires a lot of reflection and an honoring of the tension that comes with living with love and loss intertwined in one aching heart.
But grief has changed me. It has made me more aware of the fleeting and fragile beauty around me. Grief has filled me with a profound urgency to feel and appreciate the love I’ve been given. It has challenged me to honor the love of those I’ve lost, while also acknowledging the way their love can still be found each day.
I truly believe that when we lose someone, their love still remains steadily underneath the grief of it all. Their love plays a role in our hopes and dreams and futures. Soft and steady. Persisting. Continuing. Still there. Still there..
And we take that love with us into each new day in whatever way we can. And we bring them with us. We know in our hearts that their love plays just as big of a role now as it did before.
Mourning Sky: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09NGXZLG4
Gentle Rain: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CDN5RTDT?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
Liz Newman
3 articlesLiz Newman is a poet and author from the Midwest who writes primarily about grief, faith, mental health, and hope. She is the author of the “Mourning Sky” series. Her words have been shared on “Her View From Home”, “Read Poetry”, “Love What Matters”, “The Mighty”, and “Be Still Magazine”. They have also appeared in the London Underground. She believes in the power of words to comfort, connect, and bring light. She writes with the hope that her words can meet people right where they are and make them feel seen in their own difficult seasons.
