The Loss I Know

Death ends a life, not a relationship.
— Robert Benchley

Image credit @daniel-mirlea

I know I can't call her for the recipe. I started to. I know I can't call to tell her the cutest thing my daughter just did. I know there's no need to set an extra plate for dinner. I know he's not here to teach my husband his woodworking skills, and I hate all that.

I know. Yet, my heart tells me to call, to talk, to share, to learn.

When they say grief is hard work, they're not kidding. I know the physical loss. I feel it in my gut, my heart, and every fiber of my being.

What I didn't expect was the enormity of the vacuum. You were the person who had the answers, the expertise, the experience, and the joy. You were the pathfinder, maybe even the trailblazer. What am I supposed to do now without you?

I remember... that time you said, "You'll go places I can only imagine."

I remember... when you said, "I'm so proud of you."

I remember… everyone being welcome and accepted.

I remember… you modeling what it means to be a man of your word.

I remember... who you were, and it's who I want to be.

I know my loved one is not physically here. But I do know she (he) is present. I'm convinced of it: the rainbow, the penny in the fridge or on the sidewalk, the sunrise, the butterfly, the landline phone in the middle of the night spontaneously lighting up with the message, "Home line in use." Really?

I know that's you. 

For anyone who hasn't experienced grief, I can share dozens of stories from people in my grief support groups who shared their experiences of their loved one’s presence after they had passed on... a husband smelling early-morning coffee made by a loving wife who passed... a husband feeling his wife's hand on his shoulder...a wife seeing her husband standing in the doorway... a playlist of favorite songs unexpectedly playing on the radio… and, in my own extended family, my niece’s very young child seeing his grandfather’s image (my brother) as they approached the cemetery.

The relationship hasn’t ended; it has only changed. Those we have loved are now our guides. They are with us. I know.

If I am quiet, I can feel your presence, what we shared, what I learned, and what I need to pass on.

Now, I know.

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Find Your Ikigai

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The Changing Seasons