“Grief is not a task to finish and move on, but an element of yourself—an altering of your being.”~Gwen Flowers

The above quote is deeply true. Somehow society caters to lies and deception, from small to large. I noticed, after my daughter died, that I didn’t want to associate with people. My grief was an internal raging fire that I would honor as best I could. Large chunks of my life were falling away.

No more pink frills for little girls. No more little girl. And her brother was almost mute. We got a dog and that diverted our attention because who doesn’t like puppies?

We didn’t talk about our grief inside our family of three. In between crying, I packed up lots of her toys and clothes. My sister, a librarian, packed up her books and they stayed with us.

People say you should talk about your dead child. Those are the people that have not lost children. My grandmother lost two boys a few years apart and she never spoke of them.

And other people fear bringing up their names, so that gate is shut as well. Our grieving little family was pulverized into pieces.

It has now been 44 years since she left this earth and our memories of her are ever-young. Her dad died 18 years ago, so my son and I carry the loss, because as Gwen Flowers wrote, “Grief is not a task to finish and move on, but an element of yourself—an altering of your being.”

Death is a constant companion of us all. Those readers who have suffered their own losses acknowledge this. The hole in your heart, if you have the courage, can be filled temporarily, but not permanently.

On my last day on earth, I will remember how the youngest and then the oldest of the four of us died. The two that are left are scarred.

Rob and I know the brevity of life. He cycles almost every day and I write almost every day as well. These are two healthy things that we can do in solitude. He plays Trivia with his friends, but I have no distraction.

I did not sleep last night, not from grief, but from insomnia. I got up and ate a bowl of oatmeal and had a cup of tea and then came in here to write. Writing keeps me busy and perhaps comforts a few and they know who they are. And they know that grief is their lifelong companion. And that is as it should be, as life and death are partners.

Vicki Woodyard