One Year Later: Navigating the Depths of Grief and Seeking Peace
It's hard to believe that nearly a year has passed since I received the devastating news of my mother's passing. The memory of that moment is etched in my mind - the look on my aunt's face, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My world shattered as I collapsed into her embrace, sobbing uncontrollably like a lost child. Grief, it seems, carves out an emptiness unlike anything else - a void deep within your chest that feels exposed to the world. People can see it, this gaping hole, and wonder how you manage to function with such an immense loss.
I recall a moment outside a grocery store shortly after my mother's departure when my wife glanced at me from inside our car. For the first time, I felt seen - seen for what I truly was: incomplete. Vulnerability washed over me like a tidal wave as feelings of loneliness and weakness engulfed me entirely. Losing a mother meant losing that sense of being cared for unconditionally - no longer having someone worry about whether you arrived home safely or if you were taking care of yourself properly. Those seemingly annoying gestures now held immeasurable value; I longed for her to scold me for not calling to let her know I had made it home.
In this past year, amidst navigating grief's treacherous terrain, I have learned so much about myself and others. As a therapist myself, I was familiar with the stages of grief - anger, bargaining, guilt, denial depression acceptance - but knowing them did not make traversing through them any less challenging or painful. Finding peace became paramount; without it, there was only darkness ahead.
Unfortunately, peace does not come with an instruction manual; its path must be forged through personal exploration and resilience. While still on this journey towards complete tranquility myself, I can sense that I am drawing closer. Signs of nearing peace manifest when intentional efforts are made to stay the course. For me, therapy became a vital lifeline. My therapist provided a safe space for me to explore and process the multitude of emotions that plagued me. She reminded me that it was okay to be sad, to need solitude, and she validated my tears and moments of weakness. In those moments, I didn't seek strength; I simply craved the freedom to be vulnerable and human.
I have also been fortunate enough to have close friends who allowed me the space to cry openly in their presence - an act for which I am immensely grateful. This past January, determined to reclaim my mind in this quest for peace, I began going to the gym daily - running and lifting weights as a form of release. Reading became another refuge; I devoured books with an insatiable appetite - currently on my fifth book while also writing two of my own.
Intentional habits were formed along this path towards peace: running when feeling down, reading when thoughts wander astray, reflecting on cherished memories while planning out each day's emotional navigation strategy. Importantly though, I grant myself grace and time when sadness engulfs me; rather than avoiding or suppressing it, I acknowledge its presence as a passing cloud rather than one of permanence.
One step at a time has become my mantra throughout this journey of grief. Every day presents new challenges, some days allowing me deftly dodge grief's jabs while others leave me reeling from its blows. Yet no matter how hard it hits, I always find the strength within myself with help from loved ones, to rise once more. My wife, kids, family, and friends extend their unwavering support, pulling me back onto my feet. One thing remains certain: each day, I remind my children that their grandma loved them unconditionally. And one poignant moment came when my daughter asked if I missed my mom. I replied with a heavy heart, admitting that I miss her every single day. Her simple response of "I miss her too" served as a reminder that grief is not an individual burden; it is shared and felt by those who loved the departed.
Grief is indeed a process, one that demands patience and understanding. Even after a year has passed, the journey continues - one step at a time
