Right when grief begins we don’t have to search far. Comforting and sympathetic faces surround us, meeting all immediate needs. Supporting us. Weeks later some are still checking in, gauging the pain, and the progress. Months go by and random texts and calls, acts of kindness, and thoughtful ones filter through, making sure we know we are not forgotten.
On the other end, from day one, the griever is reaching. At first for answers, for justice, for peace. Later for normalcy, our old life back, and the pain to numb itself. A griever is always reaching. Looking to others to satisfy a need that can’t be met. Hoping they hold the key. Gratefully nodding to those offering to talk it through. Consciously extending a hand to new mourners. Disappointed when vulnerability kicks in, the grief overwhelms, we finally reach for help; only to leave thankful – but not resolved. Everyone who has grieved can relate. You reach, but the void can’t be filled. A patch covers the hole. Others kindness and care, sweet memories, and time medicate the wound, but it doesn’t heal. I have reached to others. Others who have had a similar experience, to people who have offered support, and to those I needed, and hoped I could rely on. At times it helped, and others it left me more brokenhearted. Regardless, this one can’t be fixed, no matter how far my reach extends, or how tight some hold. Because I reach for you dad, and nothing fills that hole.
**Note: I have amazing friends and family. There have been many who have comforted me, made extra effort for me, and who have held me through this past year. Some did not. I have learned that some didn’t (and still don’t) know how to help, or if they should. Or they are grieving differently. It isn’t personal, but it doesn’t take away the sting. That said, I am overly blessed and thankful for those who have taken care of me, your love truly knows no bounds.