Meeting grief.

Last year, someone I care very much about, and someone that I admire from a distance, went through a similar loss in their lives.  They lost their little one.

I didn’t find out about my girlfriend’s loss until after it happened.  She hadn’t wanted to talk about it.  I understand.

The person I admire is my boyfriend’s ex boss. I was so thrilled for him and his wife, to follow the news of their marriage, their pregnancy, their anticipation, the arrival of a beautiful, beautiful bright eyed baby girl.

One of them lost her child due to an illness that was visible early on from within the womb.  The other lost their child due to no visible illness.  SIDS.  Sudden infant death syndrome.  Born healthy.  10 days later, stopped breathing while sleeping.   Never knew what happened.

I sometimes wonder about grief.

If I should be pessimistic, I would say that grief is a hidden knife – just lurking around the corner waiting for us.

That’s perhaps the most pessimistic thing I’ve ever said on this blog.


I had a close encounter with grief last year when grampa got ill.  Especially when he went crazy.   Those few days will always seem very long in my memory.

What struck me the most during that time was how ill prepared I felt to battle grief.  I feel like a veteran when it comes to heartbreak.  But this type of grief, this type of tiredness, of worry, of worry for your family, of our future suddenly changing and adjusting so abruptly – this was new.  And the idea of losing my grampa – a vision that I never want to envision.   My gramma’s grief – I will never forget that.


Is it worth documenting this type of negative emotion?


I’ve had a rough month at work.  Especially the last few days when you have that one person who drives you absolutely crazy.  I stood up in my messy room five minutes ago and said to myself – perspective.  Perspective.  Think of the bigger things.


And then I ended up here.


I have so much growing left to do.  How to be a warrior.  How to survive grief?


Does growing always involve grief?


Somehow, the idea of me being 80, a veteran in grief – so unappealing.


I hope I will have lived a happy life.   But who knows.




…I think I’m experiencing a mild form of depression tonight.





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