Still Standing

My Grief Will Last a Lifetime, and That’s Okay

I’ll always miss my daughter, Cora.

I’ll always wish she were here.

Before I lost her, I thought of grief as something I should get over. Like it was some sort of disease I was trying to cure. I was already dancing with grief–my father died when I was a child, but I didn’t get it.

Society paints loss as something that happens, we recover from. Almost like an illness. (And thanks to changes in the DSM-V, gosh, that’s possibly going to be even more true).

However, Cora’s taught me something so important.

Those people we love with every cell in our bodies that die? They never leave us.

I have something of her left. I have my grief. I have my memories. I have my love.

Grief isn’t all bad. It’s not that black and white.

Grief is crying because I missed her. Grief is smiling remembering her.

I want that to stay with me forever.

In so many ways, I feel more at peace in my life than I ever was. Cora gave me the gift of being a mother, of setting aside my selfish tendency to get  caught up in feeling bad for myself, and to give and to think about others first. She gave me that. Why would I want to work toward letting that go?

I’m such a better person for have knowing her.

I can grieve and be a happy person.

I can grieve and live a happy life.

I’ll grieve forever, but don’t weep for me. Please don’t feel pity for me for a moment.

I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.

She was mine.