This Place

I'm in this new place in my grief. It's a calm place. A place where love resides.

The pain - although ever-present and impending - is not as heavy. It's not as hard to breathe.

Just like so many other places in my grief, it's hard to find the exact way to express this feeling.

It's as if Samuel is so cemented into my being, our lives, our family, that nothing can possibly remove him. There is no "will I forget/move on?" Impossible! There is only a sense of forever. He's forever ours.

One thing I hate is being misunderstood, so, in a way, I'm apprehensive to write this. I know someone will take this to mean I'm "okay" now. That's incorrect. I'm not okay. I miss him every single day and long for him always. I'm very aware of his absence in every single thing I do. His voice, his face, his life, his everything is always missing. I'm not okay with it.

But it's not so hard to breathe anymore.

We're finding a way to survive the heartache no person should ever have to face. Ever. But it's all we can do.

It's funny how suddenly crying out of the blue is just a part of my day now. Missing him in a way that makes my heart tighten is just who I am. Turning away from pregnant tummies and babies in strollers is my new way of life.

I guess this is what they call our "new normal". Always missing him, never complete, but surviving.

We've created a safe place for our grief and our love and it's good enough for now.

I don't know what tomorrow or any day after this will bring. I just know this place is working for me.