When I first heard the news of my son’s suicide, the weight of it lay heavy on my chest, pressed me to the floor, and pinned me to my despair. As I moved through this journey called grief, I had days where it opened so wide with love and appreciation, I thought it might explode.
There were many times when I felt as if I was a kite on a tight string in a high wind flapping furiously in circles–ready to snap any moment. Darkness would move in and rob my motivation, take my energy and render me catatonic.
Many days my heart was drained as I clung to a small pilot light of hope.
Other hearts joined mine and they allowed me to feel joy. Or cry.
I had no idea how long it would take to heal and what would be left of me when I got to that place in my travels. I had no idea what it meant to “carry someone in your heart.” But I do now.
At first, it didn’t seem possible. I couldn’t see that far ahead and if I could have I would not have believed it.
It is possible to heal after the loss of a child. Don’t expect to be the same person you were before or that you won’t experience periods of profound grief. You somehow learn to live with it and keep loving.
See all the hearts from the #griefheart project, many of which were sent over the years as thousands saw hearts in everyday scenarios.
