SFD - BookBait

Tell me what you think - This is intended to be a teaser for book promotion.

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What if I told you that your grief is not the end of the road? I know, I know – how dare I say that to you as you sit melted into the couch cushions with a close-at-hand box of tissues and the TV streaming a mindless sitcom? Listen. I had to give my couch away once I decided to move through my grief. I couldn’t bear to look at it anymore because it reminded me just how pathetic I must have looked to those who don’t understand.

Have you reached that point yet? Where you have a sort of out-of-body experience and look at yourself in your grief? Where you, somewhere deep, deep inside of you is whispering, “I don’t want to live like this anymore. I can’t do this”? No? Okay, no worries. It will happen. In the meantime, let me tell you something you already know.

Grief sucks.

There. Pure and simple, grief sucks.

Okay. We’ve got that out of the way. Next statement.

If you have never grieved, you don’t get it.

You cool with that? Okay, next.

My grief is different from your grief.

Good? Good. Next.

I’m going to grieve for the rest of my life.

Agreed. Okay – wait, what? You’ve got to think a bit about this. Okay, let me help.

My husband died in 2018. Yep, almost five years ago as I write this to you. I still miss him. I still smile when I see a bottle of hot sauce. My heart tightens when I see military service men and women in uniform, and it really, really hurts when I see “Vietnam Veteran” on a hat or shirt. So? Five years…and counting. I don’t see it lessening, I don’t see it vanishing. I believe and accept that until the day I die I will miss (i.e. – grieve) my husband.

Better? You with me? Now can you agree with this:

I’m going to grieve for the rest of my life.

Cool. We’re back on track. Next.

I am not, will not, can not live the rest of my life on the couch, sobbing, whining or in any other way reduce myself to an ineffective, isolated, morose, miserable widow. I – yes, I – am the only one that help myself at this point.

Ah, need more time. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

You with me now. Super. Let’s go.

Let me share with you the quote that was my lightbulb, my instigator, my stimulation, the moment it all clicked for me.

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
― Jamie Anderson

GRIEF IS JUST LOVE WITH NO PLACE TO GO

There it is. A simple statement, a click in my brain and my heart at the very same moment, that explained to me why I hurt.

Now, I admit I have an analytical mind. That said, even I had to mull this over. In my recollection, it took a couple of days before I responded and started to move in the right direction. Those couple of days, however, found myself reading and rereading that quote. I restated that last line so may times that I forgot who in fact said it first. It became a kind of mantra for me. Then the analytical part of me had an epiphany.

If grief has no place to go,

Then I needed to find a place for my Love to go.

So, my friend, here is my challenge for you –

Find someplace for your Love to go. Then start moving in that direction. I can help you with that, and I am here, in these pages, to support you on your journey. It’s a treacherous journey, I admit. There are detours, sinkholes, a bit of an overgrown jungle, but once you get on the highway it’s like Dr. Seuss says, “Oh, the places you’ll go!”