Recently I’ve learned a few things about grief....maybe I should say the grieving process. It’s a strange and confusing thing that, as with most things in life, is very fickle. Depending on what webpage or book you read there are either 5 or 7 stages of grief. Being the unique person I am, I am jumping between all of them like a rabbit on caffeine pills. One day watching videos of Lizzie will have me laughing along with her and so happy I captured all these moments forever. Then the next day just the sound of her voice has me melting into a giant puddle of raw emotion. Ultimately though, I am simply and profoundly sad....sad to have lost my beautiful daughter, sad to have lost her infectious laugh, sad to have lost her wonderful personality, sad to have lost one of my best friends in the entire world. No matter what you read, the final stage of grief is acceptance. I don’t understand how that is the final stage....how I could be even close to the final stage. I have accepted that she is gone, that I will never see her again, never hug her again, never get another chance to tell her how much I love her. I have accepted that my life will go on without her, that we have to go on....without her. And just like that, the grieving cycle starts over again. I’m right back to denial, right back to anger, right back to detachment and trying to make sense of such a senseless loss.
So please understand that today, today I am alright. Tomorrow or even a few hours from now, I might not be alright anymore. This is a road I haven’t walked before and I’m finding out there are more potholes than I ever imagined. I’m finding that as strong as I think I am and as strong as I try to be that I am not stronger than my grief over losing my daughter.
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