Do Balloons Float Up To Heaven

I’m not quite sure who needs or wants to read this, but if you find yourself pausing, as you scroll, here’s why I write. I’m not an expert or a professional. I am just a normal everyday person going through the motions of this incredibly difficult journey. Grief. Five little letters that don’t begin to capture the big feelings of the word itself. What I experience is mine, yours is yours, but it really helps to know you’re not alone. You don’t wish the sadness, pain or emptiness on anyone, but knowing the feelings are not abnormal may give you some relief. As I approach my first year without my mom, I will say, it doesn’t seem to be getting easier. It actually feels harder as the reality sets in. There’s been a shift that I never saw coming. I have never once picked up the phone to call her, only to remember she isn’t here. I am painfully aware she’s gone. I crave her voice, her laugh, the warmth of her hug that brings me back to childhood. I remember sitting on my friend’s couch last spring after her diagnosis, asking her “What do I do? How am I supposed to say goodbye so fast?” The truth is, I couldn’t. I didn’t know how and don’t think I ever would be ready. You are never too old to need your mom. And boy do I need her. Sometimes I am lucky enough to dream of her, only to wake up heartbroken. I have chosen to dive headfirst into the daily routines of kids, school, activities to escape my own sadness for even just a moment. Maybe you have too. A distraction built by everyday needs. But grief just sits there, waiting to wash over you. You can be at a red light, washing dishes or in the middle of a work call. And you’re caught off guard, only to breath it in. And here’s the thing- it’s ok. It’s all ok. It’s part of the deal. It really sucks. (And I hate that word!) There’s no simpler way to put it. When you lose someone you love with the deepest part of your soul, it breaks your heart over and over again. The memories make you smile and fill you, but you want more. A redo. It’s human nature. And that’s ok. It’s all ok. In the big picture you know you’ll be ok. The sleepless nights, the crippling anxiety, the heaviness when you try to simply be makes it so hard to truly believe that. But trust me. You’ll be ok. I’ll be ok. Not the same, still you, still me, just a little harder, yet softer with a heart that knows the ultimate price of love- grief. So if you’re going through it, missing and grieving someone whom you loved beyond words, whether it’s your morning coffee or laying you head down at night that floods your mind, know you’re not alone. It’s a terrible club to be part of. I hate to say how lucky, but really… how lucky are we to have known a love like that. ❤️