Those of us who have borne children understand the pain of childbirth. It is excruciating while you’re going through it, but once the baby comes the pain shifts. It doesn’t seem quite so bad. It’s hard to remember exactly what the worst contractions or the moment of delivery actually felt like. The fact there is this tiny new life to focus on eases our memories of the pain, mostly out of necessity and sleep deprivation. We just don’t have time to think about it. But…what about grief?

Grief is different. We don’t have that sweet little baby to focus all our attention on. We are left with this jagged hole…in our hearts, in our lives. We have “grief brain”, “grief waves”…change, change, and more change. And no sweet baby.

Everyone is different. We experience it differently. We approach it differently. Some heal fast. Some feel they will never ever heal. Some seem strong and stoic. Some weep forever more. There’s no wrong way to grieve. There is only your way.

Something has been niggling at the back of my mind for a while. I’ll try my best to explain it. It’s been five years now since Mr. Virgo died and I’m in a new relationship. And…I’m very happy. But I also grieve. Not like before. Not acutely. Not so deep and not so long. My grief has shifted…like the sand dunes by the sea. It rises here and there. It recedes here and there. And, while the pain of my loss is still very real to me, it has receded to a point where I don’t think of it all the time anymore.

When I express my joy, I sometimes forget…like the new mother…that others may very well still be in the throes of grief. I try to remember that in my writing and address grief issues. The evolution of my grief has been a blessing and a curse. It is good that I’m not in pain like I was. It’s bad because I come across as insensitive to what you may be experiencing. I remember distinctly wanting to slap happy couples when I was a new widow.

A couple of weeks ago, we were in Tennessee visiting my cousin and his wife. He has mesothelioma and has decided to stop treatment. There isn’t much left they can offer him and what they do have is so toxic it nearly killed him. He’s decided to “ride it out”. He’s been given four years since his diagnosis…two of which would not have been possible just a few years ago due to medical advancements. There were a couple of times while we were visiting that I just wanted someone to put their hand over my mouth and make me shut up.

One such event was proclaiming how happy Mr. FixIt and I are. Another was telling my cousin’s wife I’d take her on a trip some day with my camper. In the first instance, the memory of wanting to slap happy people came to me. In the second, I realized I had just tried to make plans with a new widow that isn’t widowed yet. Both were Grief 101 faux pas. Yet, there they were. I have written about grief for five years…you’d think I’d know better.

It’s a delicate balance…grief and joy. At first, grief always wins. And eventually joy comes in and plays a bigger and bigger role. When/if that happens is so highly individualized that it’s impossible to predict. I just ask God to always keep me stepping gently when I dance with joy so that I might not hurt others. I never, ever want to cause more pain through insensitivity. ❤

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.”
‭‭Romans‬ ‭12:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬