Grief by the pool

I just got home from a beautiful 7 days in sunny Jamaica with my husband and baby, and it was wonderful! I was nervous to travel with an infant, but she was so adaptable and we had so much fun together. I'm so glad we decided to go.

We had the kind of family time I had hoped for. Pool days, ocean dips, walks in the warmth, delicious food, early nights. And most importantly, just being together. It was simple, and it was exactly what we needed.

Of course, grief came with me on my trip. I don't go anywhere without it, not even to a foreign country. It's a bit like an invisible backpack that I don't ever take off. But on my trip, and over the past few months, I've been noticing it feeling a little lighter.

Each day by the pool, we settled into the same shaded spot. It was a small resort, so we saw the same familiar places each day. One family, in particular, got chairs in the same shaded spot as us each day, so I got to know them over the week.. A woman around my age, her 4.5 year old daughter, her parents, and her twin sister.

Whenever my daughter napped, I found myself in the pool with the little girl, June, chatting, playing, and talking with her grandmother. And sometimes, while watching them together, grief would quietly creep in. Seeing them reminded me of what I used to have with my grandmother when I was June's age, before my grandma passed away. And it reminded me of what I had imagined my future to be, with my daughter, a few years older, with my mom beside her. In a pool, or at our houseboat on a warm summer day.

And that's where it hits me, and the backpack feels a little heavier. Because my mom isn't here. And the version of life where my daughter grows up with her Gramma... that bond I dreamed of while making memories together... that version doesn't get to exist. And that really, really sucks.

At one point, June's grandmother shared that her daughter had had a tough year. She told me how grateful she was to be there to take her granddaughter for hours at the pool, to give her daughter a break, and also because she genuinely wanted to soak up every second with her.

And when she told me that, I experienced two immediate emotions. I love that for them... and also, that would SO be my mom, too. She would have been so excited to travel with my young family, wanting to spend every minute with Charlee, and to give me space to rest, to read, or to just be.

It felt like I was watching a live version of life of what would have been mine.

But here's what surprised me, especially when reflecting back on these moments with my therapist after returning home. I didn't fall apart! I didn't have to leave the pool or retreat inward. I didn't share with the grandmother about my loss, I didn't tell my husband about the feelings that came up, and he didn't notice a shift in my mood. I kept playing, I kept swimming, and I kept being present in my own life. And that is new. And that is growth.

Grief still shows up, and I'm sure it always will. The backpack will sometimes feel heavier, and then feel lighter again. But it doesn't often feel so heavy that it makes me topple over backwards anymore. And I feel proud of myself for that.

Here's a view from our room in Jamaica: