Dear one,
This letter may find you in the midst of the storms of grief. I know, personally, what a storm it is. In the first few days or weeks, you might feel like you're living in a bad dream. Things will feel hazy. You'll tune out during conversations, you'll find it hard to focus, you'll go through the motions. You'll listen to every "I'm so sorry for your loss", "They're in a better place", "It'll get better with time". You'll nod appropriately, but deep down you wonder if they understand the depth of the loss you are feeling. You want to tell them that those words mean nothing to you right now, but you won't, because you know it's just what people say. You may not cry at first. You may not cry at the funeral. You may not cry when people expect you to cry. I want you to know that that is okay. Your grief is yours. Everyone grieves in their own way, at their own pace. But please, don't push the tears away. I promise that those tears are a release. Let yourself feel every feeling, even when it feels like too much. Cry as much as you need to. As a the months begin to pass, you'll carry on with the motions of life. You may get fewer people checking on you. The cards and texts of support may start to fade. You'll wonder if you aren't grieving correctly. You'll wonder if you missed some deadline. You'll walk through the grocery store aisles and look at the people around you, assuming their lives are happy and "normal", wishing you could be them. You'll routinely respond "good" to every "how are you" you get during those months. Even though you are, in fact, not good at all. Because now begins adjusting to daily life with a huge absence in your life. Routines will be different. Schedules will be changed. You'll wonder why people fade away after the funeral, because now is when you really need help. The smallest thing may be the most painful. Washing dishes and coming across their favorite cup. Driving when their favorite song comes on the radio. Don't shame yourself for mourning those small moments. They are not small. They're evidence of how deeply you loved and knew that person, all of their little quirks and routines. Then comes the big days- holidays. These will be heavy, there's no way around it. You'll feel lonely during such celebratory times, as everyone around you is anticipatory and joyful. I know, I truly personally know, how much your chest is gonna hurt during those first holidays. I also want you to know that even though you'll feel alone, and you will be grieving your own personal memories and traditions with that person, you are not alone. Lean on family during those times. Cry together, talk together, tell stories together, sit quietly together. I want you to know that there is no schedule to your grief. No "right way" to grieve, no deadlines. Take your time. Be gentle to yourself. I also want you to know that there are other people out there who understand what a devastating loss feels like. I know how alone you will feel, but I promise it's just not true. This will not be easy, and your life may feel forever changed. But please, don't isolate yourself. There will be people who don't fade away after the funeral. There will be people who stick it out. Lean on them. Don't ever take them for granted. There may be some heavy days ahead, but I promise that some light is going to break through. I promise that genuine laughter, excitement, and happiness will come again. Be patient with yourself. This is no easy thing you are doing. Find ways to let some of that heaviness out. Write out your feelings, memories, thoughts. Find a support group. Start new routines. Call that friend on the harder days. Let people support you. Pray hard. Be real with the Lord. He knows your heart, even when you don't know what words to pray. He's there in every moment. While people's words may not feel helpful, you'll find that their presence is truly what is needed. You don't need the "perfect" response or advice. You just need people around you. You just need to know that people are present, alongside you. You just need to know that you aren't alone. Lean on those people, the ones who'll just sit with you. The ones who just want you to know that they are there. They are precious people. Keep going, friend. One day at a time. You aren't going alone. Some light is ahead, even though it may not feel like it now. You are deeply loved, and you are seen.
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Hey there, I'm Courtney.
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