A post I wrote several years ago about what a grieving parent needs has been recirculating lately, putting me in touch with so many newly grieving moms. When I read their stories and the pain running in between and on top of their words I’m reminded of how far I’ve come and how close I am to still being right there.
The best way I can describe grieving over a child as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.
When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.
Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.
There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.
Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by it’s weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.
But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.
You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.
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Thank you for this post – your writing always makes me feel less alone. This year is 10 (for Jake in August) and just was 5 (for Sawyer in December) – I will always be thankful for my stones just wish I could have held them in my arms a bit longer.
Can you believe it has been so long? There are ways I wish it were easier and there are ways that I’m glad that I still miss her this much. So hard to explain but I know you understand.
Your words are so beautiful, and you share something I can’t imagine going through. What a wonderful way to express your loss and memories 🙂
12 & 13 years and sometimes it still is just as fresh as when it happened. Coming up on one anniversary in April.
Your words are beautiful and powerful. It has been 13 months since my mom died and this is exactly how it feels.
This is such a beautiful analogy, Jessica. I’m new to this loss thing, recently experiencing a miscarriage, but I relate to this so wholeheartedly. It’s good to know there will be days when the stone’s edges are softer, because right now it’s just so damn sharp, every which way I move. Thank you as always for sharing your story and helping those who need to feel like they’re not alone.
So sorry for your loss Victoria and yes, I promise, the days will get easier. Just be patient with yourself. It will feel like it’s never going to get better and then one day you look back and realize it already has.
Oh Jessica, you’ve gone and done it again. You have perfectly described how grieving feels, but managed to make it beautiful at the same time. Incidentally, I have a smooth green rock that I keep in my purse because it reminds me of Joey, so I really do have my stone with me wherever I go – literally. I love you, Mama.
Oh wow, I love that you have a stone you carry. I’m so thankful for our friendship Kathy, don’t know what I would do without you!
Thank you for this. I miscarried 5 months ago. While it seems that most have forgot about it, I still think of it daily. Some days are fine, some days are not. This describes my feelings perfectly.
I’ve been carrying my stone for 18 months today. This is just what I needed to read today. Perfectly said, Jessica. thank you
I thought about you all weekend Courtney. Between Valentine’s Day and 18 months, I’m sure the days have been tough. Love you!!