Pockets

There is something that has become abundantly clear to me throughout my journey.

People don’t get over grief.

They don’t just overcome grief.

They actually move forward with grief.

It’s like we somehow carry this sadness in our pockets wherever we go.

Sometimes it just sits quietly and we forget it’s even there.

Other times, it might just poke at us giving us a gentle reminder that we are missing a part of our lives.

And then there are the times that it jumps out of our pockets and screams on the top of its lungs to make sure we don’t forget about our loss.

There have been a few things over the past few days that have made my grief jump out of its silence.

Recently, I found out that a high school acquaintance had lost her battle with cancer. While we were not really friends, I followed her story on Caring Bridge and I somehow felt connected to her.

When I read that she had passed away, my own personal grief poked out of my pocket.

I could actually FEEL the pain of her family.

It sounds selfish that I thought of my own loss when hearing about someone else’s loss but it wasn’t a “poor me” kind of feeling..

I just had this ache in my heart knowing how deep in the trenches they were.

I wanted to reach out and hug them and tell them that they would be okay.

But her family doesn’t know me so it would be pretty weird and somewhat stalkish…

So, I just tried to ignore the little poke from my pocket of grief.

But a Netflix series I am watching wouldn’t allow my grief to be silent.

One of the main characters in the show unexpectedly passed away. As I watched the funeral episode, I couldn’t believe how unrealistically they had portrayed grief.

I was so angry about the way they had minimalized the pain involved in losing a spouse.

I’m not sure why I was so vested in making sure the characters were acurately portrayed but I decided to punish myself by continuing to watch the next few episodes. Kind of a weird self sabotaging behavior to want to see the characters grief stricken.

So, instead of just poking at me, my pocket of grief starting to scream at me.

I felt sad but I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly why my grief was making its presence be known.

Until I looked at the date.

Tomorrow will be December 1st.

I took Steve to the Emergency Room for the first time on December 1st. While they didn’t admit him, it was the beginning of our battle.

When I brought him back to the hospital on December 2nd, they admitted him and he never came home.

This time, my pocket of grief screamed out at the top of its lungs.

My heart was actually hurting.

The date was a reminder of our loss and the battle we fought.

It is a reminder that although I have moved forward, I still carry sadness with me.

Although I try to silence the grief in my pocket, sometimes I just can’t do that.

Sometimes, I just feel lost.

And that is okay as long as I am able to continue to move forward in spite of the sadness I feel.

I will always carry the grief in my pocket.

I will feel it as it pokes me and I will listen to it when it screams out.

But I will also recognize that I must move forward even though I have a pocket filled with grief.

I hope everyone that has experienced loss takes a minute to listen to the grief in their pocket but doesn’t let that grief take over their journey.

Keep it in your pocket.

Acknowledge it when necessary.

And move forward….