The Weight of Grief

Oh how I remember the night my Momma passed. I was holding her hand and singing a lullaby – too focused on her thumb that had turned an odd shade of purple. I watched as her heart rate and blood pressure all dropped to zero – a machine with neon lights moving across the screen of black. No more ebbs and flows. Just a straight light scattered amidst zeros. I will never forget the animalistic sounds that came from my mouth in a life all their own or the way my brother laid on her chests with sobs that would shatter even a giant’s heart. (2014)
It was a year and a day after I lost the light living in my womb – I called him My Baby Bear (2013). The year after we lost Momma, my last remaining grandparent passed away. I was her namesake and in the end, she couldn’t remember who I was (2015). Another year went by and I lost my Papa – after his organs had began failing – he had been on full life support for months. We had to come together to make the hardest decision and say goodbye. (2016)
And I thought I would absolutely never recover.
Grief comes in waves and shatters the very ground you stand upon. Time does lessen the pain but the ache has never left. It has simply become a part of me. It broke me open in ways I never knew possible. When I cracked open – I realized my heart no longer had limits. Bittersweet – the very thing that broke me, healed me.
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