Grief and I

I am coming up on a life milestone. Or so I am told. On Sunday, February 4, I will turn 60 years old. I can see some outward signs of aging. I can’t help but notice the facial wrinkles when I look in the mirror. I also have some shiny silver hair that wasn’t there just a couple of years ago. But mostly I feel old on the inside... grief does that to you.

I am tired. Grief is exhausting – it wears you down because there is no reprieve. Even when I’m happy, the sadness is there – lurking just below the surface. Grief is my constant companion. We were forever joined by a single moment of tragedy and now we are learning how to live together.

Birthdays seem a good time for reflection. I know I have much to be thankful for – I have been richly blessed. I gave birth to two incredible children whose hearts are forever a part of mine. A second marriage gave me the man of my dreams. As a family, we have traveled near and far and seen some awe-inspiring sights. We’ve had some remarkable adventures and conquered giants. And while I have soared, I have also been brought lower than I thought possible. Yes, I have much to be thankful for, but I also have much to mourn. I have done what no parent should have to do – I have buried a child.

I will wake up on my birthday and, as I do every morning, I will think of my son before getting out of bed. Grief and I will share some private time mourning the loss of my cherished child. I will weep knowing there will be no morning telephone call from Jordan wishing me a happy day. When I have wiped my tears, I will offer up a heartfelt prayer thanking God for the 24 years I had with Jordan. He was a gift like no other. As intense and unbearable as the pain of his death is, my love for him is even greater. I know we will meet again – our souls are forever connected.