Sunday, December 5, 2010

Seeing the strength of others further along in the grief journey

“Deep grief sometimes is almost like a specific location, a coordinate on a map of time. When you are standing in that forest of sorrow, you cannot imagine that you could ever find your way to a better place. But if someone can assure you that they themselves have stood in that same place, and now have moved on, sometimes this will bring hope.”

~Elizabeth Gilbert~

I found this quote on Jennifer's blog, whose writing always inspires me. This quote sums up so well how much hope other BLM's who are a few weeks, months or years ahead of me in their grief have helped me to see that life does carry on and that I won't always feel as terrible as I have since losing Jacob and as I do right now. 

5 comments:

Jessica said...

That is a beautiful quote. Thank you for sharing.

Lindsey said...

That is beautiful. And I know what you mean about being able to find hope in others' journeys. I myself am at two different places in my grief, as I am years past losing my Jacob and only months past losing Ella. As you know, it is a different grief each time, a separate journey in itself. I am so very thankful to have other Angel Moms to lean on and learn from.

butterflymom said...

Always know that you have people you can turn to and lean on at any given moment. We all need it and use it! ((hugs))

cullensblessings said...

Thinking of you Dana.....

J. said...

Thinking of you too, Dana.

For the longest time, I was hard on myself, telling myself that I should be "over it" by now or have gotten "past it" already. But there hasn't been one day (at least not so far in the almost 7.5 years since we lost our daughter at 40w) that I've woken up and ta-da, magically, everything is just splendid. Although time has tempered the grief and loss, it's always there on the periphery of my daily life. Along with this is the bittersweet aspect of watching my daughter's subsequent siblings grow up and do all of the things and reach all of the milestones that she never will. Beth Powning writes: "I'm still on this leg of my journey. I can't yet look back and see the remembered landmarks that, when recollected in sequence, will reveal the truth. I still cry when I speak my baby's name; perhaps I always will. Perhaps this is the nature of loss, and I must let my tears run. No one ever gets over a child's loss. There is nothing to get over to. For the rest of my life, the birthday will come that reminds me of the years he did not live" (2005:326). Realizing that there was nothing to get over to was a gift to myself, one long in coming.