The Grief Chapters | 03: This Is The Shape Of My Grief Today

Faith

Jul 11

This post was originally posted on my publication, Simple Faithful Motherhood, on Substack.

Today, my husband and I celebrated our fourth anniversary.

It was simple, just the way we like it. We went for a movie and a glorious dim sum lunch. Then we grabbed groceries and hurried home to pick up our son from school.

In the evening, my parents came over and had a movie night with J — what a special treat for our little boy on a school night!

I’m sunk in my bed now, warm and toasty under the covers, feeling glad at all that we celebrated today, feeling at peace, and suddenly realizing something: this is the second day in a row I’ve gone through the whole day without suddenly bursting into tears at remembering our baby.

No, I haven’t forgotten.

It’s just that remembering is ceasing to be such a heavy feeling.

My heart no longer feels like it got stepped on by an elephant.

“So maybe tomorrow I’ll find a trigger that sends me bawling, maybe not. Both are okay.”

I’m glad. I’m glad for the strength that God has graciously activated in me. I’m also a little conflicted.

Does moving on mean I’m letting go? I don’t want to let go. I want to hold on to the precious memory of my baby forever.

Yet I can’t help but consider the possibility that maybe, down the line, the days I don’t remember will outweigh the days I still do. Is this the inevitable?

I don’t have the answer today, but I’ll do my best to sit with this mixed bag of feelings, and accept that this is the shape of my grief today. It morphs, quickly, I know. It’s so fickle-minded. But one thing is certain: I’m always going to be one day more experienced with grief than the day before.

So maybe tomorrow I’ll find a trigger that sends me bawling, maybe not.

Both are okay.

DID YOU FIND THIS HELPFUL?

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