Crushed

It's been ten weeks and a day. It's strange the way marking time becomes so natural after a death. Each week that passes. Every holiday missed. I know that eventually Wednesdays will not hold the weight they currently have. Weeks will turn to months and then to years.

I have not experienced grief lessens over time, rather I grow more comfortable carrying it with me. I get stronger by carrying the load. At the moment though, I feel overwhelmed by the weight of sorrow. I am beginning to succumb to the crushing tonnage of my loss. As I had anticipated, Oliver's death compounded my grief of Waverly's death. And now I find myself unable to move. I look around and think I can't do this. Again.

I have read enough about grieving to know this is normal. My own experiences have taught me this truth. It is too much to do on one's own. So now continues the difficult task of inviting people in to see the darkness, the realness of my grief. The work forges ahead when I am at my most exhausted and vulnerable. I have to ask for help. No one can carry the heft of my lament, however they can support me as I put one foot in front of the other. They can balance me, wipe my tears, give me nourishment, shout words of support.

I am fortunate to have people in my life who accompany me on my journey. It is my hope that for those of you just embarking on this journey, you can gather up your own support team.