Changing Seasons of Grief

This time of year is always hard for me. It’s the season of a complicated dance between beautiful grief and difficult memories. The past couple of weeks in Virginia have felt like a typical autumn in Indiana and it has stirred visceral memories and acute longing. Some years are harder than others, but I can't remember a year that felt so like the year Hart was born and died. It feels strange and familiar-a sort of déjà vu, making the discombobulation of grief time even more disorienting. 

I am so grateful for the privilege of loving and missing my sweet Hart, but longing for something that will never be, that, suddenly, weirdly, feels so near I swear I see a shadow, is tough. 

My 2023 New Year's resolution was to go out more often, spend more time with my friends and make those relationships a priority. Staying cozy at home, in my pjs, is my default, so I had to be resolute in my goals. And I am so much better for it. 

As I enter my grief season I know I will struggle to against my inclination to isolate and get lost in my grief. I know my tendency to decline invitations, to go inward, and to walk alone with this beautiful ache is strong, but I know my people's ability to reach in and pull me out when I start to withdraw is stronger.

This year has taught me that, while the pain doesn’t lessen when others travel with me, the incredible souls I am blessed to call friends, hold me when the weight of things is too much to bear and that makes the journey a little easier, enabling me to find the beauty along the way. And for that unbelievable, incalculable gift-there are simply no words big enough to express my gratitude and love.