Most days, I'm fine. I walk through life without thinking, without remembering, without looking at my angel's pictures. They still hurt too much, and it's been 12 years. She'd be 13 in March. I even trudged through the holidays with only a few tears because I just didn't have the energy to think. I'm too burned out from survival.
But then, I meet a fellow traveler, another member of the Empty Arms Club. And I think about how much pain that person must have gone through. Which brings me back to empathy and thinking. And, inevitably, my own pain.
It's always there, just beneath the surface, waiting to plunge outward like a molten lava from a volcano. That ridiculous fairy tale about the five stages of grief gives you hope that volcano will go dormant, that if you can just make it through numbness, anger, and all the other stages, you'll finally reach peace.
When I first lost my Alli, I heard about the stages of grief and thought they worked like stages of childhood, one after another and done. But then, I read a book that took the whole five-stages bit apart, showed how there as no scientific foundation for it, no studies to prove anything. Just a woman making stuff up to help people as they face their own upcoming death. It slowly got spread and turned into false hope. Even she struggled with it when it became her turn to face her mortality, from what I understand.
But the truth is that real grief is more like a rollercoaster of the most terrible variety. One minute, you're numb, then suddenly, you see or hear or smell or think something that makes you remember how thin the crust over the lava is, that pops it open and brings the pain to the surface again. You may go through all the feels all at once, or you may go days in one place, emotionally, then hop to another. There's nothing stable, predictable, or stage-like in grief. There's no moment when you know it's over. There's no "getting over" it. The only way is through. There's no right or wrong way to grieve. There's nothing anyone can say to make it better.
Time helps. Self-expression like writing or art or photography can help with healing. Finding someone to wrap their arms around you and hold in the pieces helps as well. What has helped me the most is understanding there's hope for the future, the quiet assurance that I'll see my angel again. If you don't know it's true, I recommend you find out. The Lord suffered our pain, knows our grief on a very visceral level. He will help you through if you seek Him out. This song helps me when I'm struggling. One way or another, find peace and healing. That's all any of us can hope for.
