I am still not good at grieving. I just choose to talk about it. Often. I am no success story. I’m smothered in sweat and smell of wars. I’m on the verge of toppling into the deepest parts of the ocean. Still, here I am, quietly breathing. Most days I don’t know where or when my next breath will come yet it still escapes me and lands somehow, upon my chest. The sky around me seems to rumble and roar nightly.
I am grasping for answers and anything that will ease my mind as I’m left to navigate through a thick cloud of confusion, loss, brokenness and everything else under this raging sky. Still I’m only left with open ended questions and nothing more. Without realising it, I have placed no importance on my own existence. When Dan died I didn’t matter, not anymore anyways.
My loss and grief have overshadowed my own existence. I haven’t realized I’ve been placing no importance on my place here on Earth. I have felt invisible and sometimes useless… I am still here though. Dan was here, he mattered. Now I am here and I matter. I must remember this truth. Moving forward, I think the best way to honour him and the life he lost, is to establish my place here and my life.
To live in a way that matters. To walk through life with grace and love always in my heart… He is missing from the earth now but he will never be missing from our hearts. There is still so much work to be done and so I must move forward with the belief that I still matter. The roads still need to be traveled. There are many turns still to be made. There is hurt that needs holding and hearts that need healing. Though I feel as if I cannot move the mountains, I’ll start by moving a stone. I need patience though, because although you may be sunshine, I am still ready for a storm.
I am sure this hole inside of me will stay. It’s so wide and it’s so deep, dug over years and years with so many different shovels. I’m sure I’ll even fall into it every now and then. It’s a permanent part of who I am, it’s as defining to my being as the color of my eyes. But instead of digging deeper into the hole, I am going to start working on a ladder that will get me out. This fall has hurt like hell but I’m thankful for it, because from the wreckage I’ve found grace in my wounds and a version of me I never knew and she is strong and she is brave.
So as I bury all my yesterdays deep in the earth beneath my feet, I will also wait for new beginnings to bloom. And though you will still find me in the trenches, I am now the one holding out my hand. Knuckles bloody from fighting the shame and stigma surrounding addiction, overdose and all it silences.
