I’ve had a hard time writing after my last post about our angel daughter, Olive. What an earth could I say or write that will ever mean as much or have as much impact. After a lot of thought I came to the realization that the act of writing itself heals me. So outside of everything else; the expectations I put on myself, the hope I have for helping others, and the desire to do great things, I should just tell my mind to stop being so worried, and write.
Today’s topic of choice – life and grief.
I survived the loss of my father through what I can only call a true emotional battle. I fought hard and I didn’t win but I learnt to co-exist with grief. Losing my daughter put me into what could only be called an emotional and mental battle the likes of a World War. For those of you that are sadly part of one of these loss clubs (a term only those who have experienced loss will understand) you get it.
Life has a completely new meaning to me now.
My daughter, Molly, is my everything and has been the reason I push forward, get up with a smile, and put my grief armour on. You know, the armour that covers your mind and your heart and allows you to get through your day to day activities without melting into a puddle at ever trigger.
Triggers. You may not ever understand this but triggers are everywhere. The obvious ones are the Father’s Day aisle at Shoppers, or the newborn cry you hear while you are grocery shopping, but the non-obvious ones are those that nobody really understands. Smelling my Dad’s cologne, driving by the park that was going to be your headquarters during your summer mat leave, its everywhere. That’s why we have to live with our armour on.
I won’t lie, my armour is tarnished, dented and rubbing me sore in a few places, mainly my heart. I’m able to take it off only in certain company – my grief group, my therapist sessions and my home. During a week with 7 days and 17 awake hours, thats not a lot of reprieve time.
For people existing around those of us who are wearing armour, be gentle. Be compassionate. Be understanding. We pray you never walk in our footsteps as life with unimaginable grief is tiring, heartbreaking and lonely.
Thanks Amber….as a member of this “club”, I do understand. Keep writing…it helps..xo