Time doesn’t heal all wounds: The loneliest part of grieving

You shouldn’t be grieving anymore.

I’ve been telling myself that a lot in the bathroom mirror lately.

And some well-to-do people have told me that in their eyes lately when they ask me if I’ve been feeling better and I suddenly feel obligated to say yes, I’m doing just fine.

Grieving is a lonely business–especially when enough time passes to convince everyone around you that time has healed the wounds. I’ve never faced it before–not like this.

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My Dad has been gone almost three months now. If you’re new to my blog–my Dad died of cancer in December, and it still feels like it just happened last night. I know that doesn’t seem long at all as I sit here and type this, but there’s an unseen push to just “be better, darn it”. The sting of the first shock has worn off for those around me. I don’t visibly wear the death in my eyes anymore. I don’t put my head down at my desk or file for bereavement time or look toward the date on the calendar that’s set for a funeral. It’s done. Everything is done.

Except for the pain.

Maybe you’re at that stage too–months, maybe years, after someone you love leaves your life because of death or divorce or time in the service. And a world that once stood still to honor the “much understood” tears is now in full motion again, expecting you to be alright. YOU expect you to be alright. But in some ways it feels like it’s getting worse and worse and you’re more and more alone in the pain that you’re no longer allowed to constantly share.

At least that’s how it feels for me.

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It’s scary to put my thoughts–vulnerable thoughts, at that–out there on the line. But I started this blog with the intention of sharing every part of this journey we call life. And this is an ugly part of it.

 

Time doesn’t heal all wounds, I’ve realized. Time just changes them.

Time transforms how you have to deal with the wounds.  Time makes it easier to wait to cry until you get in the car. Time gives you some “good days” where you can better turn toward positive things or enjoy a good time or distract yourself with work or church activities. Time makes it easier to get dressed in the morning and put on makeup without having to re-apply the mascara three times. But time doesn’t heal it.

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There was comfort almost in knowing that everyone knew at the same time that I was grieving my Dad. There was a subtle comfort in the sympathy cards that came in stacks in the mail and the phone calls and text messages. I didn’t think so at the time, but now, as the cards stop and the calls stop and the nights become a little quieter–pain becomes more raw because there was a comfort in knowing that everyone knew. People had their minds on my Dad.

Last night on my way home from work I flipped on the song that Dad dedicated to me and my family before he died. In the song (Compass by Lady Antebellum) there’s a line that says, “When it’s all said and done, you can walk instead of run. Because no matter what you’ll never be alone.”

And just like that, I decided that walking is best for me.

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And I have to stop trying to run to the finish line. Because at this point, I don’t even know if there is a finish line to this.

But how do you walk? How do you give yourself the mercy and the grace to say, “You know what, I’m still not ok. And that’s ok.”

I turned to my scriptures for help, just like I had when my Dad took his last breath. And I subconsciously turned to Gethsemane. Because right now, that’s where I’m sitting. My friends who surround me seem to be fast asleep at times–there with me and good-hearted, but unknowing. And in the darkness I’m on my knees with the Lord. 

And the first thing I read was John 17:9 when Jesus, completely and utterly alone and bearing the pains of every single broken heart that would ever be, began a prayer that included, “I pray for them: I pray not for the world, but for them which thou hast given me, for they are thine.”

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(Painting by Liz Lemon Swindle)

In those moments in the garden–moments where the Savior faced the beginning of the most unimaginable pain to ever be felt within the earth’s history–he decided to pray for you. He decided to pray for me. His disciples. He didn’t just feel the pains of grief right when it strikes. He felt the dull ache of grief after months and years pass–the ache that gets locked away and festers in a lonely heart. He felt, in the moment, how it feels to wake up from a dream where they’re alive again–only to lay very still while looking at the ceiling and realizing that it wasn’t real. He felt it all– and in that moment he prayed.

This isn’t a pity party. It’s not a call for extra visits or more sympathy cards. I just have a feeling that I’m not alone in the stage of grief that isn’t openly talked about merely because of the stigma that things should get better within a set amount of time or “you have a problem”. I have a feeling I’m not the only one who wonders why “time” hasn’t held up his end of the deal. And I’m pretty positive that I’m not the only one out there trying to be the “strong one”, only to beat myself up when that doesn’t work out as planned.

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But I’m trying to remind myself of the simple truth that the Savior of the world went on his knees for me. In lonely darkness he pleaded for my heart to be healed. And in a way no one else will ever understand…he understands.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds, I’ve come to figure out. You will too, if you haven’t already.

But I’m glad to know who does.

66 thoughts on “Time doesn’t heal all wounds: The loneliest part of grieving

  1. I am so very sorry for your loss. I lost my own dad to cancer in July of 2004. It was hard and sometimes it still is hard. I also reached a point though when I could remember without breaking down although I couldn’t pinpoint it for you. And I still have times when it hits very hard and my eyes tear up with the pain and unfairness of it all. Grief is not a linear process. I’ll pray you find some peace today and in the days that follow.

  2. Awesome, awesome blog today. I forwarded on to a dear friend who lost her husband over a year ago now. I pray she finds encouragement in the words you shared.

    Paul

    Paul and Susan Olmstead New Tribes Mission-USA MTC Ministry Coach (920) 254-8736 http://www.psaaz.com

    From: All our Lemmony Things Reply-To: All our Lemmony Things Date: Tuesday, February 18, 2014 at 2:33 PM To: Paul Olmstead Subject: [New post] Time doesnt heal all wounds: The loneliest part of grieving

    WordPress.com Kayla Lemmon posted: “You shouldn’t be grieving anymore.I’ve been telling myself that a lot in the bathroom mirror lately.And some well-to-do people have told me that in their eyes lately when they ask me if I’ve been feeling better and I suddenly feel obligated to say yes, I'”

  3. I love what you said here. I remember 33 years ago when my 18 year old younger brother suddenly died in a car accident. It took a year for the physical pain I felt to subside. I still miss my brother. People thought I should be over it way before I was. They didn’t know what I knew, that the loss of someone so close, someone so dear to your heart is a tangible, living, breathing things. Grieve has it’s own path. Follow it.

  4. How fortunate and blessed you are to have had such a good relationship with your Dad that you still miss him and grieve for the loss of his physical presence in your life. No one has any business telling you (or even implying) that you should be OK by now. “They” are not you and should not presume to tell you how to manage your grief. You, and the Lord, are the only ones who know the ins and outs of the relationship you and your Dad had, but I personally think it’s a beautiful testament to your relationship that you haven’t simply moved on. Grief is personal and everyone is different in how, and how long, they grieve. God bless you and I pray He will give you strength to meet the days, months, and years ahead.

  5. Thank you for this.

    Gentle hugs for you.

    And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry others may be telegraphing insensitive messages, or that you now feel you should say you’re “fine” in response to their inquiry. Be gentle with you. Give grace to your sweet self. Three months is so precious little time to adjust to such big and hard change. Grant grace to those who just don’t understand, if and when you can.

    Praying for you.

  6. Three months? Oh My! You are just beginning. Give yourself time. LOTS OF TIME. There is no time limit on grief. There are holidays and birthdays and family days that you will need to go through without him. These will hurt. There will be shadows that will trigger memories of him.
    My dad passed away quite suddenly 28 years ago. It was totally unexpected. There was no opportunity to say ‘goodbye’. Fortunately I was blessed with a great tender mercy, in that I had no regrets. It then took me 3 years to ‘heal’ from that loss. (That may be a long time for some people) Yes, sometimes the eyes seemed to say that you should be over this. I eventually realized that they had simply not had a loss like this, yet. Sometimes it would feel surreal that the world could still be rotating, and people were still living their lives as they always did, while I was feeling so profoundly my loss. During those three years I would still hear him clear his voice, or walk down the hall. I would enter the family home expecting to see him there. There were reminders of him all around. Today, I still miss him. I still talk to him. There are still things that trigger memories of him. But the wounds have changed. There is no ‘required’ amount of time. You are right. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. It just changes them. You will get through this… in time.

  7. Kayla:

    “Time” in the saying “Time heals all wounds” is very relative to the individual. Take as much time as it takes. Three months was not near enough for me. After my mother passed away in 2006 from brain cancer it was a year before I remembered to not pick up the phone to call my mother every time time one of the kids did something she would love before I was dialing. It was several more years before the urge to call really disappeared. In the intervening almost 8 years what I have learned is that rather than healing all wounds, time allows us to slowly reframe the wound, like carefully treating and rebandaging a wound time and time again until eventually the wound heals, likely with scar as a reminder. Like I shared in sacrament one Sunday, we can eventually see them scars of joy.

  8. paul had some wise things to say. my father died in 1982 when my son was a year and a half old. how many times i cried thinking that my dad would have loved to see or hear what was happening. i wrote. i wrote him a letter telling him what he didn’t know, what happened when he was dying and afterwards the funeral. i still write him letters even though i know he already knows what i will say. my brother was killed in 1960 and my father always looked forward to the time that they would be reunited, and he is happy now. i have to be happy for him, together, my mother died in 1991 and they are all together, where there is no pain or regret, only peace and love. i am so happy that i had the father i did, would rather have had him for only one day, instead of some other person for a longer period. he watches me and i can feel his love.

  9. I cannot believe I’ve FINALLY found someone who understands EXACTLY what I’m going through, EXACTLY!!!! GOD BLESS YOU ♥♥♥

  10. You’re right. time doesn’t heal – – it just passes on and having no expectations we follow. Tears and pain and sorrow begin to feel differently – – they take up space in each day at different times and for different reasons that a specific to each person’s individual experience. For me, I’m learning what it means to celebrate the fact that the life that slipped away far too soon, and without warning – – also grew inside me, next to my heart and he still has his place there. So time won’t heal – – but it will give me more opportunities to celebrate that he lived! I’m his mother today – – and forever. Time tells me this, and I celebrate. Thanks Kayla. Just call Me Mam’s.

  11. I lost my mom 3 months ago today (Nov 18, 2013), so I feel many of the things you write but cannot put into words like you. I know grief is very individual, but it also seems we are on a parallel journey. I’m so sorry for your loss. Today was a difficult day, but your words were a soothing balm on my broken heart.

  12. I am sorry for your loss. We lost my mother to a heart attack 34 years ago. She had been suffering from rheumatoid arthritis for several years, yet it was a shock when she died–who dies of RA? I later learned that RA is very hard on the heart. I spoke to Mom constantly and allowed myself to cry out my grief in private and it helped. But I bottled it up and hence got stuck in that mode for years. Go ahead, share some of your grief with people you trust. That is what finally helped me move on in my grief cycle. I still tear up far too easily when thinking of Mom, but I can tell some really good stories about her to her grandchildren and great grandchildren.

  13. Yeah. And when a lot of time has passed… a LOT! …and you THINK you have healed…and maybe you HAVE…in a lot of ways…but then something takes you..”there” …and the aching comes.

    I do think “time” does heal ALL wounds. I just think probably that “time” is on the other side of the veil…

    ❤ ❤

  14. Thank you for posting this, Kayla. I believe that we never get over the loss of a loved one. We only learn to live with it. My mother died about 4 years ago of breast cancer. There are times when i just cry and i think, that will never change. I miss her and that feeling will not heal. So I agree with you. Time does not heal all wounds, you only learn to deal with it somehow. I believe, healing will come after this life…
    And by the way, 3 months is not an adeqate time for grieving for the loss of a loved one. I wish you much strengh and the Savior’s blessing and peace.

  15. I have had this exactly thought that I am in the garden alone with Jesus.

    I choose to paint.

    I choose to take one step at a time.

    In disbelief of my mom’s death.

    Knowing I may never be healed (in the world’s eyes).

    Thank you for sharing your insight and words.

  16. Thank you for posting this. I lost my dad just 3.5 weeks ago to a heart attack. It was sudden and unexpected and I wasn’t able to say goodbye. I was comforted through the first 2 weeks of his passing, but then like you said, the cards stopped and so did the words of encouragement. I’m in my last semester of college right now and I’m getting married in June. I have to face graduation, my wedding day and the rest of my life without my father. But some days are better than others and when people see me laughing and smiling, they assume that I don’t need help anymore and that I’m done grieving. It’s so frustrating. Also, I haven’t really felt God’s comfort or my dad’s presence since he’s passed 😦

  17. My heart aches for you. I lost my father to leukemia when I was 16, 34 years ago. I had my faith, my friends, my church–but I couldn’t understand how God hadn’t answered my prayers for healing–God had said “No.” Mostly, in all this time, I have learned that the grieving seems to be as deep as the love…and since love lasts forever, the loss does, too. My father expressed to me, when I was 13, that he didn’t believe in God, or that Jesus was God’s son–he thought there was some good force, and that Jesus was a good man. That emptied me of hope in ever seeing him again in heaven…but I still believe in miracles. Even when God says “No.” I just think I don’t always see the miracle from where I’m standing. Jesus did tell us he would never leave us or forsake us. God told us that, too. You are stronger than you realize, and grieving is not a sign of weakness; it is proof of love. May you be comforted and encouraged by our Lord, and by all who surround you with love.
    –Laura Rasmussen

  18. Thank you for your words today. 6months for me. My dear precious Mother passed in August 2013. I miss her so very much. I do understand all your comments. Time has not taken anything away. The tears just flow from me at no particular time, for no real reason. A song, a word from a friend, a picture, or just a memory brings them on. It is hard to grieve but God is so GOOD. YOUR THOUGHTS ARE MINE. THANK YOU

  19. While I have not lost someone so close to me, I have lost a few friends around my own age. It’s been about a year since one passed on, and I find myself thinking of calling or visiting her, and then I remember she’s not here. I think it’s important to remember we are not alone, that Christ is always with us, as are friends and family. Also, it’s our job to remember while also carrying on with our life.
    I’m glad to see all of the support from the other commenters.

  20. Yes, loss of a loved one is so very personal and until you have experienced it, I really do not think you understand it. My father passed away in January of 2008 unexpectedly and then this last year I cared for my mother while she tried to beat Lung cancer for less than a year and passed away in July 2014. My only sibling since than will not talk to me, not sure why? In many ways I feel like I lost her too, and I just cry, not all the time, but a lot. It is so hard to loose those you talk to everyday, you celebrate everything with, you rely on to sort thru this wonderful thing called life. They are there and then poof there gone…but I have realized I still have them in my heart, my mind, in my strength and I still talk to them and life goes on and on and on. Now my purpose is to instill my heart, my wisdom and my strength in my beautiful children so that someday, when they need to they will be able to go on without me but they will know that I am always with them, as my parents are with me…enjoying this wonderful beautiful life God allows us to live.

    I believe you only grieve for ones you have loved and if you have loved them they are always with you, so then you are really never alone, even in your grief.

  21. Thank you so much for this. My grandpa died in 1995 and I still miss him and grieve him every day. I know that he would be so proud of me as your dad would be of you. I am grateful for eternal families and the knowledge that one day I will get to see my grandpa and hug him and tell him how much he means to me. Losing a loved one is never easy and I am sorry for your loss. Thank you again.

  22. Thanks for this. My mom has been gone for 11 years. The anniversary is coming on the 22nd. Sometimes the longing for her takes my breath away. I know she is waiting for me.and I know she is safe with our Lord and Saviour, but I’m selfish and miss her sweet face so much.

    1. Thank you, Leesa, for connecting me to this Blog! Kayla describes beautifully, what I have felt but not always able to express. I will be keeping you in prayer, especially this weekend. Love you!

  23. Kayla, I lost my sweet Dad, December 14th, also. He was 83 years young…a delight to be around. My stepmom went to Walmart on Friday the 13th and when she returned home she found him in the floor with a horrible headache and throwing up. She called me immediately and the Paramedics were there in minutes. The ambulance was diverted to 3 different hospitals because of overflow in the Er’s…but finally was accepted to onel He was having a massive global brain bleed due to a blood thinner he was prescribed 3 months earlier. Before he went completely unconcious we said our goodbyes and the last thing he uttered to me was “I love you”….he passed away the next morning at 9:00am……My Dad broke his hip 3 years ago and had 3 surgeries on his hip, in the hospital 4 months with all kind of problems from the unsuccessful surgery and was pretty much in a wheelchair. That hip and leg was so painful when he tried to walk with a walker he just finally gave in to the wheelchair. It hurt me so to see him in so much pain as I have Systemic Lupus and I know pain……the Sunday before he died…I had my Pastor annoint me for my Dad and I just asked him to pray for Peace for my Dad and for the pain to be bearable for him. Watching him take his last breath.. the look on his face was so peaceful…SO peaceful and he was almost smiling. He had such a grimmace on his face earlier from the severe pain in his head. His death was such a shock for me and my sister…we both were in a fog that week…..but as we were leaving the cemetary that day…the thought hit me like a ton of bricks…..and God whispered…your Dad got that miracle you prayed for….he is in Perfect Peace and No Pain. As much as my heart was broken…a peace came iover me like I have never known. Yes, I still cry most days and still pickup the phone to call him and then realize I can’t call him, as I’m sure you do…..but I’m so glad that I serve a God who understands and answers prayer……no…. time doesn’t heal all wounds….I don’t think my heart will ever feel unbroken again..but I am so thankful for that Peace I feel along with my Dad. Your articles have touched me so and thank you so much for sharing and letting me share…. I have you in my prayers……Blessings!

    1. if you will let me make a suggestion – i replied earlier to Kayla, she has the right idea – write it – write it to your father in letters of things he is missing and what it was like for you and is for you now – write it for your children so that they will have the memories you have of him. it will make you cry, it may make you wake up in the middle of the night wanting to talk to him and then you can write it. it will make it easier to talk to him and about him in your prayers. don’t be afraid to do something that will make you cry, it shows your love. i have lost a lot of family, everyone but my son and myself, and he will have memories of things my grandparents did and my parents did and my generation did. they are really at peace and without pain now and we have to be happy for them.

  24. I read your post last night and this morning I happened to listen to a general conference talk by Elder Holland. It reminded me of exactly what you were expressing here. It was his April 2009 talk called “None were with Him.” I hope you listen to it and that it brings you some bit of comfort. Thank you for your posts: they are profound and inspiring, and I hope you never stop writing.

  25. Reblogged this on chittykittybangbang and commented:
    Even though I didn’t lose my dad, or my husband, this still rings true. As I feel the shockwaves from all that’s happened to our family and in our family over the past 12 months, I can’t help but feel pretty alone in my grief. I know there are those who understand, or who sympathize with me, but every twinge of pain, every ache in my heart, every sigh of overwhelmedness, I am learning to give to my savior. So bittersweet, that knowledge that anything I’ve felt, He’s already there, already conquered it for me.

  26. There was a talk given many years ago on grief in conference. I have read it many times as I have faced the challenge of losing someone so dear to me. It was by Elder Lance Wickman titled “But If Not”. I love the message of this talk, because as you so eloquently describe….this grief we feel gets overwhelming at times. We think we should be “over” it. Yet, that longing for the people we love makes it all the more powerful. My nephew died about 5 years ago. One particular week shortly after the funeral…I found myself very emotional, really unable to control my feelings. He was not my child but the grief I felt for my sister and for him were more than my heart could take. My children were having a end of the year activity at school that I had volunteered to help with. It was June and sometimes in Idaho we get huge rain storms that month. It rained on and off all morning. The principal was trying to decide if they should call this outdoor day off because of the weather. She opted to let them play in the rain. So, as I helped the children with their activity, the spirit was very strongly with me. He helped me to feel the joy of childhood as I listened to them laugh and scream. I giggled with them and really had fun! Then, walking home…my house was about 7 houses down from the school…I felt the amazing comfort of the moment I had been given. I cried all the way home, and felt the rain was the heavens pouring out my heavy heart. It was a day I cannot recall without crying. It was an intensely personal experience with The Lord. How much he loves us and seeks after us so individually. There are still times that a good rainstorm makes me cry with deep gratitude for that day….a day of cleansing, a day where I felt understood, a day where in the midst of grieving so intensely, I was shown the light on the other end. It has been almost 6 years and sometimes I still wept for him. It is easier to stop crying…but the hole is still there. It will be made right when we leave the earth and see the other half of life. I have reflected often upon this experience and know that drop by drop He heals our hearts and the wounds feel less open. But, if we didn’t miss them, we would not long to be with them and do what is necessary to get to them. Each of us go through that process and have our way of doing it. Thank you for your blog. It really helps me. Bless you in your journey.

  27. Thank you for honoring your grief and not trying to push it away. You are smart to recognize that you don’t get over you, you get used to it. You make your grief part of who you are and go on and you will be OK. Hugs.

  28. You are NOT alone. It has been 5 years since my dad died. There are still songs on the radio that I can not listen to without crying. This year was the first year that I did not spend grieving. I wore black on Sunday in remembrance of the anniversary of his death.

    You are right that time does NOT heal all wounds. It just changes the way we experience them.

  29. Kayla, thank you for your story. I can so relate to what you wrote. My Mom passed away from Stage IV breast cancer in June of last year, and I still shed tears in the mornings as I remember calling her on my way to work. When she picked up the phone, I would say “Good Morning Sunshine – what are you and Dad planning to do today?” I also miss her voice at the end of my workday. I still listen to Mom’s precious voicemails that I managed to save over the years that always ended with “Love you, bye now.” She was my mother, who became my best friend later on in life. I don’t believe we ever “get over” the fact that they are not coming back. I am grateful for the hope knowing that she is now in a better place and that I will see her again. Until then, there is a piece of my heart that is missing that Mom used to fill with her positive attitude, sense of humor, and love for her family that I will miss until we are reunited. Thanks again for sharing your love of your Dad with us.

  30. My mom passed 10 days ago. We just had the funeral on Monday. I’ve been in another world it seems, going thru the motions of dealing with family and friends when all I want is to be alone for awhile. We just got back into last night…. I canceled my plans for today to stay in bed and look at my emails that have piled up and read your blog. I’m hurting but try and seem ok. When I started reading and you said the same thing I thought ok this is normal. Things will never be the same. Just different. Thank you for this. … I know she is watching and in a better place but it doesn’t seem real yet. But you made me feel better and not alone.
    Thank you!

  31. You took pretty much everything I have been feeling lately and put it perfectly into words. I lost my father in January and have even experiencing all these same feelings & thoughts. Grief can be so incredibly lonely, especially when everyone goes home and their lives go back to “normal”. A friend sent me to your blog and I’m so glad she did. It has given me comfort tonight to know someone out there understands what I’m feeling these days.

  32. WOW- thank you so much for this! Hopefully you feel the return of numerous people you have helped with your rawness and openness.

  33. I completely understand your comments here. I lost my baby sister to cancer 16 years and 5 months ago. But who’s counting. 🙂 And I can say there’s no timeline to grief. Each of us has to wade through it in our own way that works for us. I remember a friend at the time calling me and in the course of the conversation told me “People will tell you that you will get over this (i.e. time heals..) but I’m here to tell you that you won’t. But you will learn to live with it. You will learn to deal with it. It will get better.” (He had lost his mother 10yrs or so earlier while on his mission) And I have to say, he was right. I still miss my sister dearly. I still wish she was here with us. But I have learned to deal with it. And it doesn’t hurt quite as much as it used to. Which reminds me of a line I once heard in one of my favorite TV shows. One character was consoling another and told him “It will get better. Losing someone is never easy. But one day, you’ll remember her, and it won’t hurt.” And from my experience that also is true. I don’t know if any of this has helped but having been in your shoes I just couldn’t read this and not say anything.

    1. I just wanted to add that my “baby sister” was in her early 20’s when she died. I realized that my wording might give a different impression.

  34. Ok, 3 months is not long AT ALL to be done grieving for your dad, especially if he was a good one!!! My dad died about three and a half years ago and I still miss him! This is random, but I started a blog recently where I talk about how my dad has been involved in my life since he died. He is more active in my life than he could have been when he was alive. Feel free to read: cordeliashappilyeverafter.blogspot.com

  35. Thank you for sharing. I’m glad to know I’m not alone. Lost my father 5 months ago to cancer and finding it more difficult as time passes.

  36. Thank you for posting this! Your words have exactly expressed what I’ve been feeling lately. I lost my mom to cancer in August. It’s been almost 8 months since her passing, and yet it still feels as fresh to me as ever. And I can’t imagine the pain ever really going away. There is comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in this. Thanks for your beautiful thoughts.

  37. All that time does is steal your memories, if you allow it. I would rather feel the all consuming pain of loss over and over, than to forget one single thing about my Grandma. There is no closure, only the acceptance that this is as good as it is going to get, and you own the pain because you loved someone so much, and you would’nt trade that time together for anything . And time goes on, and you go on living, because you have no choice. There will be triggers that bring you to your knees, and times when you wonder if you can survive without that part of yourself. I feel her absence in all that I do, but I know she is still there, this is not goodbye, and we will be together forever soon. I remind myself that she would never want me to be so unhappy, after she taught me to be so strong. I am so grateful to have had someone to love like that, but I miss her. Always, I miss her.

  38. I stumbled across your blog by pure change after googling: time doesn’t heal. And I can completely relate to this post. I too lost my dad, almost 2.5 years. My mum died 25 years ago in September. To put this into perspectivw, I’m 33.
    Grieving never stop. Wounds never heal but become the scars you bear.
    I still grief for both my parents and I will for the rest of my life.

    Most people don’t like a negative answer to the age old question: how’re you doing?

    Especially when it’s about losing someone as it just reminds them of their own mortality.
    People expect you to grief and move on.
    However to do so would mean you did not care for them. For we should grief for them and miss their presence throughout our lifes. It isn’t meant to be easy. Loving someone never is and although they are gone, they never truly are as long as you are there to remember them.
    And to remember is to grieve. There is no shame in saying: I’m not ok. I miss my dad.

    My heart truly goes out to you and I am sending you a really big virtual hug, where ever you may be. Xx

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