"I know it's a part of life
But I wasn't ready to say goodbye
So, tonight I'm gonna pull out pictures, ones with you in 'em
Laugh and cry a little while reminiscing
By myself
I can't help
That all I think about is
How you were taken way too soon
It ain't the same here without you
I gotta say, missing you comes in waves
And tonight I'm drowning"
🎵Chris Young, Drowning🎵
Chris Young... you get me. There's something heartbreaking yet comforting for me when I hear a song like this that resonates so deeply. Heartbreaking because I realize that someone else in the world feels the deep feelings of grief the way I do. And comforting because I realize that someone else in the world feels the deep feelings of grief the way I do. I wish this discomfort on nobody, but it certainly validates the pain I feel from missing my mom.
I found this explanation of a grief wave from another grief blog, and it feels incredibly accurate for my journey, so I will share it here: "Grieving is a lengthy process. In the beginning, it is all-encompassing. With time, it lessens and will come on in smaller bouts. It is very much like waves when it comes on, and you must ride that wave until the next break. Just know there will be a break."
I truly felt like I was drowning for a long time after my mom died. It wasn't just waves, it was an entire ocean with a strong current sucking me under. Thankfully, though, the waves have become gentler and more spaced out, and there have been breaks in the intensity of my emotions.
But when the waves crash, sometimes suddenly and unexpectedly, they are strong. There are grief triggers everywhere. Sometimes the emotion I feel is anger. Sometimes, sadness. Sometimes, denial. Sometimes, shock. Sometimes, numbness. Sometimes, an overwhelming mixture of them all.
March is hard. It marks the month I lost my mom 2 years ago, and it has already brought on so many grief waves. I am trying my best to ride the waves as they come, and am (im)patiently waiting for the calmness in between.
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