Feeling Differently

 

I have noticed that I have been feeling differently about Jess's death lately. In many ways it has become achingly hard, harder than before.

I recently heard a woman talking about her Dad's death and she wanted to get past what she called "this death event" which was all the craziess of being notified of his death, the preparations for his funeral and the funeral itself were what she considered the "death event." She thought that once she got past that she could get on with the business of actually grieving.

Hearing that makes me realize that Jess's death event has been going on for months. When my Dad died it was a pretty fast thing from taking care of all his funeral arrangements and getting his affairs in order (Thanks in great deal to his having put everything in order before his death) but all in all the event concluded quite swiftly.

With Jess, it’s been nothing like that. Her “death event” has gone on for months; held there by all the ways she was still included. Her friends made sure of it: prom, graduation, senior tributes, yearbook pages. She was remembered so fully and beautifully. It was as if she were just behind a curtain somewhere, just out of frame. Still with us somehow.

I am so grateful. So moved. And all that remembering also made it hard to fully feel the reality of her absence. It meant I could still pretend, on some level, that she was just out of sight. Still part of things. Still close.

Now the school year has ended. Her friends are scattering, leaving for college, moving forward into the life she was supposed to live too. And with the end of those shared rituals and recognitions, a new stillness has arrived.

This is forever. There are no more special moments to mark her absence. No milestones with her name built in. No more ceremony. Just the slow realization that life goes on without her in it.

It is only now, I think, that the grief begins in earnest.

**** 

P.S. I’ve noticed that when I share a post like this about my grief, some of you immediately worry that I must be in a terrible place. And while I love that people care enough to check in, I don't want you to worry about me.

Often, when I write about my grief, it’s not because I’m sinking. It’s because I’ve found a little clarity. A new insight. A shift in how I’m thinking or feeling. And when I share, it’s usually from that place of reflection, not collapse.

Writing helps me understand what I’m feeling. Sharing helps me stay honest about where I am. And maybe it even helps someone else feel a little more seen in their own hard thing.

I also share because I want to normalize talking about grief. I want to live in a world where sadness doesn’t automatically signal a crisis. Where we can hold space for emotions that are messy and complicated without rushing to fix them or fear them. My grief is real, but it’s not a red flag. 

So if you see a post from me that feels heavy, please know I'm okay. Thank you for caring.

And for taking the time to read what I write. 

****

Note: Image is my Midjourney creation. I call it "Imagining the Cosmic Plan."