Grief. Defined as deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.
But, wow, it is so much more than that simple definition.
Seven years ago I entered into the depths of grief and lived the definition, unwillingly.
It is heart and gut-wrenching despair that encompasses my entire being. It ebbs and flows. Sometimes predictable with looming birthdays, anniversaries, or other important dates, and at times it hits me out of nowhere…a scent, a song, a tulip, or a random person who at quick glance has a striking resemblance to Stacy…and with that my heart sinks, the tears well up, the grief rushes in and is insurmountable. I miss my sister with every ounce of my soul and the most difficult thing for me to try to wrap my head around is the finality of it.
Stacy is gone. FOREVER.
Yes, of course she lives on in my memories, but there is no picking up the phone to vent to her about my call for jury duty, no more coffee dates at Starbuck’s, no more road trips or shopping excursions, no more hugs, no more of ANYTHING. My children will never meet their Aunt Stacy, and they will only know of her through my memories. The pain and heartache of that is beyond difficult, it hurts so much. She would have loved and adored them and doted on them like crazy. They will never know her like they deserve to.
Stacy is gone. FOREVER.
No one can accurately describe grief, because it is different for everyone. While some people may be able to relate to your grief and loss, as they may have encountered it in their life, their experience with it will be different from yours. The thought that time will heal all wounds is a straight out lie. Maybe over time you become able to better manage your grief or the grieving process changes, but there is no “healing” from this. I will never “get over” the loss of my sister. NEVER.
While I do not wish for anyone to have to experience grief like this, it is a fact of life. Whether you are prepared for it or not, it is a concept that cannot be grasped, only experienced. In my life, I really try to look on the bright side of things and see things with a glass half full approach, and in a way I feel guilty for trying to see the positive because it seems so wrong in my mind, but I have to remind myself that there is nothing that will bring Stacy back, although I’ve pleaded this through my tears.
Stacy is gone. FOREVER.
My trying to see the positive doesn’t mean that I am at peace with her loss or that I miss her any less. I think Stacy’s loss gave me the gift of realizing and further embedding into my beliefs the importance of family. Family has always, always, always been the most important thing in my life, but Stacy’s death reaffirmed that importance and brought us all infinitely closer and cemented the strength of our family.
Stacy is irreplaceable. There is nothing that could replace that love or that loss. But, with Stacy’s loss I gained a brother. Richard was Stacy’s husband, so while he was always a part of our family as my brother-in-law, our relationship grew tenfold and in a much more organic way after her death. I am beyond thankful to have him in my life and to have the relationship we do. Stacy’s gift to me, I’d like to think. As are the relationships I have with my parents and sister, Laura. My parents, Laura, and Richard, are pillars of strength, and although we may all grieve together, we do so separately too, because our grief looks inherently different from one another.
You can try and define grief, but it’s difficult to find the words that truly express the emotion.
I remember every moment of that day from the minute I got that call seven years ago that forever changed my life. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about or miss my sister, Stacy. She was one-of-a-kind, had a zest and spunk that couldn’t be duplicated. She left an indelible mark on me and everyone she came into contact with. She had an energy about her that drew people in and she loved to be the life of the party. I miss her so much it hurts my heart. There are a million things I would say to Stacy now, but none more important or simple than, “I love you.”
XO,
Mel