10/28/2025
Heartbreakingly true…🙏❤️🙏
You know, life is funny. You just never know what’s around the next corner. You’re on your charted course; you think you have it mostly figured out. Life is good; life is steady. Then, along comes grief and absolutely tears your whole world apart. Everything you thought you knew goes into the garbage. The person you thought you were has disappeared. Nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—is the same in this new world. Your child is gone. There is an unexplainable emptiness, both physical and non-physical, and we are left to figure it out. Each day brings its own challenges; sometimes, the silence is overwhelming and feels like it could swallow you whole. Who knew that an absence could be so loud. Other times, memories flood in unexpectedly, filling every corner of your mind. In these moments, the pain is raw and undeniable, but so is the love that lingers in every thought. Every honest word here comes from a place of deep loss, but also of enduring hope and resilience.
I’ve always been the kind of person that needed to feel in control. I was an ICU nurse and single mom, I had to be in control. For the last year, that control has gone, and I think that is one of the hardest parts of grief for me. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know what I’m going to feel today, and I certainly don’t know how I’ll face tomorrow. The unpredictability of each day is daunting, and sometimes all I can do is breathe through uncertainty. As I move through this unfamiliar world that I now live in, I am learning that it’s okay not to have answers. Letting go of control is terrifying, but it also opens the door for small moments of grace and healing to enter in ways I never expected. I’m learning to accept that just surviving is a victory, and that feeling lost doesn’t mean I’m failing—it simply means I’m human, doing my best to navigate a world forever changed. Crying rivers of tears does not mean I am weak. It means I am brave enough to show my sorrow. We are not failing. We are not doing this wrong. We are taking it one day at a time. Our child is gone forever. Our lives will never be the same. There is no manual for how to get back on track.
Connection is vital. Others that understand our journey, that walk our path are our saving grace. As I continue this journey, I realize that healing doesn’t mean forgetting, and hope doesn’t erase the pain. It’s about learning to carry both—the sorrow and the love—with me as I move forward. And it’s hard. Each day may be uncertain, but the connections we forge and the compassion we offer each other are what truly helps us endure. Even in the darkest times, we can find moments of light, and those moments remind us that while life will never be the same, it can still hold meaning. Together, we keep going, one step at a time.
Love and hugs
Lynn
