3 years

 Three years ago I never could have imagined I would be where I am now. So much change has occurred…monumental change…that it is honestly quite overwhelming to even process. I have experienced the most brutal emotional science-based pain…and I continue to experience it daily. 

I blinked and here we are…3 years later. I know people say things like this all the time…but I truly cannot believe that it has been that long without Bridget. I think the reason I cannot fathom it is because for one, I still can’t come to terms with the fact that she’s gone, and number two is that I don’t feel like I’m truly living in the present. My physical body is here in the year 2026, but my heart and soul are back in 2022/2023. I’m fairly certain, too, that I really won’t ever be able to be 100% in the present time, hell I doubt I’ll ever even be 50% here. 

So much has changed since I last wrote. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Michael and I against the world. We’re like each others security blankets. After going through deep emotional hell the last few years, I can honestly say that I truly could not go through life without my husband. We’ve been through it all together and there’s no way that dating, pre-marriage counseling with the church, and wedding prep could prepare you to know how you and your significant other would handle the situations that we’ve already endured.

We got to a point that Johnston just could not be our home anymore. Too much had gone on. Too much heartbreak to be able to call it home any longer. We mutually decided that it was time to move closer to family. I have very little family left, so we moved to Carroll where the majority of Michael’s family resides. It was a welcomed change, although a massive adjustment. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I feel comfortable here yet…but it’s starting to feel like home, little by little.

I feel tethered to my grief. It has kept me from branching out, meeting new people, and attempting to enjoy my new surroundings. I often think about how I must appear. Do people see the giant storm cloud that follows me around? Do they recognize the sunken under-eyes of a grief-stricken mother? And then there is the fear that if I DO try to put myself out there I might just scare people away with my vulnerabilities and loss. Grief.never.leaves.your.side.

I heard the other day that “grief is like glitter, and it rains down over everything”. That struck me deep. What a beautifully tragic metaphor. It really does touch everything. It’s likely the first thing people even knew about me before I joined this new community. But I’m doing my best to not let grief define me. I made a vow to myself that this year I would say yes to more things. I would challenge myself to try and get outside of my comfort zone. The “me” from one year ago would be so proud of how far I’ve come…along with several other close confidants.

So how DOES a grieving parent feel 3 years after the loss of their child? I wish I could say the pain was lighter. I wish I could say the hole in my heart was mending….but that would be a lie. It truly has gotten tougher. Yes, most days I can gather myself and go to work…but 50% of those days I would rather bury myself in my comforter and isolate instead of face the world. It’s difficult to not envy those around me who still have all of their children and the hopes and dreams that they carry that WILL come to fruition. 

I’m hoping that during year 3 I can continue to push myself to find some joy daily…otherwise what is the point of living. Thank you for all of the continued thoughts and prayers. Grief lasts far beyond the funeral and flowers.