by Malissa Moss
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about life and in looking back at my past it seems as if it belongs to someone else. Someone else’s story. Even as I browse through my old blog posts, it’s as if I’m reading about someone else’s experience. I get lost in the memories and confuse them by questioning whether it was a reality, a dream or a nightmare. When I look at pictures of my late daughter Brittany and me; I am quickly returned to my reality. It seems like it happened a lifetime ago.
As I reflect, I realize that the same thing happened to me as it did after I lost my mom. My best friend in life. She died at the age of 48 from breast cancer and as I stood at the foot of her death bed, me seven months pregnant, telling her it was okay to go and that the baby and I would be okay. That was the first of what would be several deaths I’d have to reconcile and grieve. I began to forget my mom’s voice and what it felt like to be hugged by her. It’s happened to me again and it’s so hard to digest it all. I’m losing the ability to remember Brittany’s voice and her laugh. I can see it in pictures or hear it in videos — and I’m so grateful for that. But losing the ability to recall her in my life has been a bit startling to me.
In the early days of my grief, I could still feel her and sense she was around. I longed for her, to hold her and get my little hugs at the end of a long day. But now, I can’t even feel it. Even when I try to feel it. It’s just gone. As if she never existed. How can that be? Why does that happen? How does one reconcile that? I do not know. I know I have been dealing with loss for a long time but this one is just so hard.
It used to be so hard to live in the present because all I wanted was to go back to the past where we had each other. Even though life was hard dealing with chronic illness and the financial woes that came from caring for her — I’d never trade that for anything. Never. But living in the present is easier now — it’s a distraction — a means to distance myself from that painful event, like so many others. Don’t get me wrong, I still consider myself blessed for all that I have been given and still receive today. I’m loved by many and feel that love every day. It has been my lifeline. But not one day doesn’t go by without understanding the void that resides in my heart. Not one day!
The future, my hope has always been grounded in my faith and knowing one day all this pain and sorrow and loss will go away and we will be reunited again. This is how I have made it this far and how I will continue to love, cherish, extend grace and walk in the light from which I get my purpose. Helping others with grief. Still not sure what that looks like but my blog is part of it. My book will be part of it. My life will be a living offering to my fellow grievers and I hope in some way I am helping them by sharing my story and the story of unimaginable grief and unexpected blessings.
I can’t help but think about the many people who have joined this journey without ever asking to. My heart goes out to those parents and families of those who recently lost their children, their husbands, fathers, and friends. My heart is broken for them because this journey is not easy. It’s hard. It takes a village to carry them through it. I pray for them daily and I know their loved ones are beside them, especially during the darkest moments. If for just a moment; they can stop and feel their love surround them as they continue to navigate their grief.
For more information about Malissa, you can check out her website.
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