Grief...the Ugly Truth

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines Grief as: deep sadness caused especially by someone's death; a deep sadness; trouble or annoyance.  As I read this definition I did agree, but I also feel that there is so much more that can not be described in words.  No matter how hard a bereaved parent tries to explain their grief, it is truly something one cannot understand unless they are, in fact, living it.  Grief is so much more than the words described in it's definition.  I have thought a lot about writing a post like this, but have always stopped myself because I truly feel that people are not prepared to know how ugly grief and being a bereaved parent is.  Being only about eleven months into this process, I am far from an expert, but I know now, what I did not know eleven months ago.  With each day, I have tried to stay positive and focus on my blessings, but it's been a hard week and I decided that it's okay to let people know the harsh truth.  So, with that said, this is not like most post of hope, but more of the dark side of grief.  I don't write these words as a cry for help or to alarm anyone, more to release so many thoughts in my mind and maybe paint a picture of what one parent goes though, day after day, after the passing of their beautiful child.  This is my grief....

Grief is waking up each morning, hoping that the passing of you child was just a horrible dream only to be reminded immediately that it is, in fact, very real

Grief is going to bed each night, hoping for a better tomorrow, only to know that the pain is still their and always will be 

Grief is shedding more tears than you ever knew were possible and it happening in the most unexpected moments 

Grief is not wanting to be alone because in those moments of being alone, it can be even darker

Grief is thinking about that dreadful day, every moment of every day, wishing that it wasn't true  

Grief is your heart breaking over and over again anytime you hear of another child passing, knowing the path the family who lost the child is about to embark on

Grief is meeting other bereaved mom's, so grateful that you know you are not alone, but so sad that they are a part of this ugly club

Grief is hearing your daughter say ten months later that she still remembers that night and ask, "Why did Jaylen have to get in the water?"

Grief is closing your eyes and reliving that night over and over again

Grief is not wanting to get out of bed, but know you have to 

Grief is knowing exactly how long it has been since your child passed, only to realize that most people have no idea.  Life goes on for everyone else, why we, as bereaved parents, wake up day in and day out, trying to survive one more day without a part of our heart and soul

Grief is missing your old self.  The life and person before will never be there again 

Grief is relating everything to "before" and "after" the accident

Grief is walking in a store with your husband and overhearing a toddler say "dad".  Looking at each other with they same thought, thinking that it came from the mouth of your angel child.  It sounding exactly like him 

Grief is going to the gym to hear the woman in front of you tell the worker that her son is turning 2 in five days.  Knowing that the child will probably make it to his second birthday, but maybe not.  Jaylen was turning 2 in a few days too...  

Grief is going to the swimming pool, hearing parents comment on how well my children swim.   Thinking, if they only knew what I have endured and why my children swim the way they do now  

Grief is going to the swimming pool because your children LOVE to swim, but have anxiety the entire time being there.  Not only making sure your own children are safe, but the many others, whose parents have no idea how quickly life can change

Grief is still having to deal with all of life's other day to day trials

Grief is looking at your beautiful child's pictures and ask, "am I really living this?" over and over, day after day...

Grief is seeing other babies, wondering if you will ever get the chance to love another baby

Grief is seeking to find answers, but in all reality won't ever have the answers until we are reunited

Grief is anytime you are out and see another child, close to the age of your child who passed, and a million thoughts come running through your mind.  What would Jaylen be doing now? Saying? Playing with? Favorite toy? To wonder so many things, along with staring at every little boy you see wishing that things were different 

Grief is letting your kids still live life, not let the tragedy ruin their childhood.  But have every fear in the world of something else happening to one of them.  Never thinking it could happen to you and now realizing that it so easily can 

Grief is knowing pain that you never knew existed and that the only cure is allowing time to heal.  With that though, the wound will always be there  

Grief is trying to move forward, but with moving forward, fiercely trying to keep my child's memory alive 

Grief is mommy guilt...not wanting to take any moment for granted, or yell at my kids, but it happens  

Grief is sleeping with your child's blanket every night since his passing, not wanting to wash it because it's one of the last things he touched 

Grief is not making dinners that your child loved because the memory of the last time you made it, he was here  

Grief is when people ask, how are you? and "okay" is the only thing to say because you, yourself, don't even know how you are. Or you do know how you are, but the person asking, isn't prepared for the truthful answer 

The list could go on and on.  There is so much to this process and no matter how much I write, there are no words that could describe what this "new" life is like.   I will not deny how truly blessed I am.  I have a wonderful support system.   So many loving friends and family by my side, but the truth is, it is still UGLY.  Grief is so ugly!  It is hard and I am exhausted!!  I saw a post on Facebook the other day of a father who lost his son.  He spoke of how he tries to be strong on most days, but for that one day, he was going to be sad.  It hit me hard because I truly believe so many of us living this "new" life try so hard to be strong.  People want to see that we are moving forward, living life, and not letting our loss take us down.  They don't want to know the ugly side of it so we put on our "mask" and let the world think we are okay.  I can't speak for all, but for myself, I'm not okay.  I buried my almost two year old son, long before he should have been.  I am the over-protective parent, the one always making sure my kids are safe.  This wasn't suppose to happen to me!  I don't believe this is something I would have signed up for, but for some reason it is a trial I am faced with.  I'm not okay, but I am surviving.  I am slowly trying to pick up the pieces that have been shattered, hoping that eventually they will piece back together.   The cracks will never be gone, but maybe together again.  I know I will never be whole again until we are all reunited, but until then, I am trying.