Last night I held my son as he wailed and screamed and cried and eventually whimpered. After eight months he has begun to actively grieve my mom, his grandmother.
My siblings and I started the process of clearing out my mom’s things this week and my son asked to be a part of that process. I was surprised. It was his day off from school and he generally advocates spending quality time with his DS.
But he chose me. And my mom. Over his DS.
Occasionally throughout the day he hid his face under a pillow or behind a curtain and only the small shake of his shoulders told me he was crying. I respected his privacy. Every once in a while I would hold him, and in those moments the crying would fade away.
I understand the way he goes inward. I was the same way as a child.
But last night there was no more holding it in. As we got my daughter tucked into bed I heard a wail erupt from his room. It was the same sound he makes when he walks into a table unexpectedly or stubs his toe. And it was also very different.
It was different the way you know when your baby’s cry is different and you must get to that baby As Quickly As Possible because something bigger than hunger or a dirty diaper is wrong. It sends a zing up your spine and propels you into action. It was that kind of wail.
For an hour, my husband and I held him as he writhed with a pain I wished he would never feel. But, he is human and he loves, and so grief is inescapable.
Today he is better. I can see in his eyes he is lighter. The journey of grief is not over, not by a long shot, but he feels better today than he did yesterday.
And that is grief. It sucks. It hurts, but if we allow it some space and ride the wave, it gets better. I have been speaking with many clients these last few weeks that have grief they buried long ago finding its way to the surface.
There is something in the universe right now making deep wounds ready for healing. If you feel like this may be true, honor your journey. It will get better even if the pain feels overwhelming.
Let it out.
It may feel scary but it is a true and honest step toward healing. If you take the first step, I promise you that faith will rise up to meet you.
It always, always does.