You don’t get to judge my grief.
You have no right to say “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” or “Don’t you think you’re moving on too soon?”
You have no right to question how or when I grieve.
You have no right to question how or when I move forward.
Unless you have walked in my shoes (and I can guarantee you haven’t) you don’t get to say shit.
What you need to understand is that everyone grieves differently. Even those in similar circumstances- for example- I have no understanding of my mother-in-law’s grief as I’ve never buried a child (and I pray to God I never have to) just as she has no understanding of my grief as she’s never buried a husband, the father of her children.
The other thing you have to understand about grief is that the whole “stages of grief” thing is total bullshit. Sure, there are general categories of grief but grief does not occur in stages, it is not linear and it does not follow a timeline.
Grief does whatever the fuck it wants whenever the fuck it wants. It can consume your being at times, and at other times, be seemingly absent.
Grief happens in the middle of your work day. Or in the car on your way to drop your children off at daycare. I crawl into the bed we shared each night with grief.
Grief keeps me awake at night and exhausts me until I finally give into sleep. Grief makes me hide in my car to scream and cry so I don’t frighten my small children.
Grief makes me sit in the cemetery and close my eyes and wish that I was dead along with you.
Grief makes me grateful that I am not.
Grief makes me appreciate everything more passionately, more fiercely than I ever did before.
Grief is life’s cruelest teacher.
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