As part of this year’s National Grief Awareness Week, we want to share a parent’s honest reflection on loss – a reminder that grief doesn’t end. Their words are a powerful testament to what loss feels like, and a meaningful call to compassion for anyone walking a similar path.
“I bring this to you, humbly knowing that what works for me may not be the answer for everyone, and just hoping that these words land well and offer some comfort.
Grief is individual, and that makes it a lonely path to walk. You have no map. No particular destination. It’s often a steep path; sometimes you think you’re going to step off a cliff; often you feel you’re wading through knee-deep mud; and there seems to be no-where to sit down and catch your breath. Along the way you meet generally well-intentioned people who say the strangest things, leaving you to plod on alone for miles, dwelling on what they’ve said to you.
So probably the most crucial coping strategy I stumbled upon – almost by accident – was to identify fairly early on who would accompany me on that journey. Walk that path with me. Someone who could help shoulder the weight of that grief with me; help me to navigate the twists and turns; pull me back from the cliff edge. And when the going got really tough, as it often did, and still does, let’s be fair, because I have a feeling this journey will be lifelong, to gently take my hand in theirs, take a pause and sit with me awhile. To quietly point out that I will never be alone. Remind me how to smile. Help me to ignore the thoughtless platitudes offered up, the incredulous “still grieving?” comments, and instead gently encourage me to say, “well yes, she’s still dead, so I’m still grieving.”
We are so grateful to this parent for sharing something so personal, and for speaking with such honesty about what grief truly feels like. Their words remind us that grief doesn’t fade with time or follow a neat path – it becomes part of life, carried every day in different ways.
At Jessie May, we are here to offer a listening ear, a supportive hand, and a community that remembers. We hold space for grief – not to fix it, but to share it. Because grief never goes away, but with care, compassion and togetherness, it becomes a little more bearable.
