Grief doesn’t come with any instructions or realistic insights, although there is an abundance of books and opinions. Many offerings of platitudes to survive arise from kindness, such as there is a better place, our loved ones no longer feel pain, along with many others, but no real honesty of how life changes. No one tells you that you will be living simultaneously in the past, present and future, everyday having elements that you must work through, was that a real memory, or a dream that has now become a memory? You now have to live like your soul has been amputated, continuing to feel the phantom pains of the life that existed, but that will no longer exist. 

Familiar places, paths and furniture still carry the energy of the path and life that you were living until that life was derailed. Every corner makes your heart race and breath quicken, as the brain is still yearning for the most important person that made your life complete, to only feel emptiness take hold. The brain slowly reconstructs the new reality, as that person will no longer be right there in front of you, or occupying their favorite spot on the couch. It’s like the twilight zone, the ebb and flow of the reality that you are in doesn’t always match the dimension you left and the one you remain, it’s like every day is that Tuesday, except when it is an actual Tuesday, a place marker, a reminder of that new reality.

Grief doesn’t hide in the margins; it is in plain sight every single day. It is the drive to the grocery store, to picking up your phone to send a text, it is in the semester ending and the summer making its presence known. It is also in the bigger milestones, scanning the room for the one face, you know in your heart of hearts is not there, as you accept another graduate degree or honor, but continue to carry them in our heart, actions and the way we show up in the world. The grief of what is known to be gone remains in every routine, habit, and flow, the spirit always reaching for what is no longer physically here. 

It has been more than 10 months since Kayla has left, and there is no handbook, words of wisdom, or acts of service that soften or prepare you for the journey of continuing to live. Losing a child is what I would consider the worst thing that could ever happen in a lifetime and the heaviest weight a soul would have to carry. My heart, soul, body and mind are all stilling struggling with the reality that is impermanence, that nothing is permanent. The loss of a future that felt promised, but now there is a new hope for a new future, one in which reunification is possible. 

Life is a gift. Her life was a gift. I will continue to honor those gifts. I will also continue to honor my grief, the new perspective that I have developed, and work towards a path to dignify and elevate the community I continue to serve. 

There is no one way to grieve. The only offering I have at this point in my journey is to find a way to honor your love, honor your life, and to surround yourself with people that allow you to do those things. There should be no judgement in how you move through your life. If you can, seek purpose. It is okay if you never feel whole again, but it doesn’t mean that purpose is lost, even if most days it feels that way. Life will continue to whisper the promise of tomorrow, when you are still enough to listen. Remember to breath, continue to look at the sky in awe, and stand in stillness to recenter yourself. Life continues whether we want it to or not, and finding a way to carry and honor our grief makes its bearable.