Grief divided is made lighter. – English Proverb
In those early weeks and months, there were many nights when sleep was less than optimal. I functioned better during the day. I had a teen and a preteen, and we all tried to get back to some semblance of normal. In hindsight, we were doing little more than spinning our wheels, as noble as our intentions were. There was no quick fix. There couldn’t have been.
Blessed with the ability to do so, the kids went to grief groups and individual therapy. Our schedule seemed little more than shuffling to and from appointments. On top of loss, they were dealing with teen and tween issues as well – relationships, motivation, fitting in, finding their way. Worry landed squarely on my shoulders and stayed. If I were to help them navigate their grief, I had to deal with my own. I began attending a support group and started therapy too.
At first, I was guarded. Grief can be messy. How much did people really want to hear? That softened. I started to feel the small act of resilience declared by simply showing up. For me, grief and worry metaphorically reside in a backpack, likely the product of many hikes in Acadia, one of the places I’ve always found peace. I just carried them, not realizing their true weight. Sessions became my time to set the backpack down, share in conversation, and leave a fraction lighter.
There is not a soul on this earth who is not grieving something or someone. I wish for all of us more moments of lightness.
Grief, Reflected 