Grief, Grace and Growing

Dear Rob,

You have been gone for one year and five months. It is so strange to say that, let alone type it. Some days, it feels like an eternity since you’ve been gone. I was listening to a podcast recently, and a grieving widow said something that resonated with me so deeply. She said that one of the hardest parts of grief and loss is comprehending that the person you love is truly no longer here.

I have pictures of you throughout our house. The kids wanted them there so they could always be reminded of their father. But for me, the hardest part is not being able to see you, reach for you, or touch you. It is such an unreal feeling. Sometimes, I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that you are gone. It’s not fair.

For the past year and five months, I have been healing. And if there is one part of this journey that has made me upset with you, it is this one. You left me with so much to work through! My healing journey has been difficult. I have had to face so many emotions, so many questions, and so many moments of trying to figure out the WHYs.

You know me. I am a planner. I need to understand the reasons behind things. I need answers. But a year and five months later, I am slowly accepting that I may never know why. Maybe I will understand when I see you again in heaven. Maybe I will never get the answers. And perhaps learning to live without those answers is part of my journey, too.

What people don’t always see about grief is the amount of work that goes into healing. It isn’t just about time passing. It is intentional, exhausting, emotional work. I have been in talk therapy throughout this journey. I am doing EMDR. I have spent countless hours processing my emotions and thoughts through journaling, having difficult conversations, and leaning on my friends. I have even incorporated healing massages to help release some of the tension and stress my body has been carrying.

I am doing the work. All of it. Even on the days when I don’t feel like it.

I am working toward a place where sadness is no longer my constant companion. You know how I am. I don’t like being sad. I am a happy person. I am optimistic. I love to joke, laugh, have fun, and enjoy life. And for a long time, I didn’t recognize myself.

A year ago, I was struggling to even smile or crack a joke with my friends. Even at work, I was just trying to get through the day. Conversations felt difficult. Laughing felt foreign. I was surviving, not living.

And now, little by little, I am finding pieces of myself again.

I am cracking jokes. I am meeting new people. I am having conversations and building friendships with new coworkers. I am laughing at work, enjoying time with friends, and finding myself looking forward to things again. These may seem like small things to other people, but to me, they are huge milestones.

Just when I think I am navigating my grief and figuring out my next chapter, you find a way to visit me in my dreams. Your recent visit gave me even more clarity and motivation to keep moving forward. To push through. To LIVE.

I am starting to talk about my future a little more. Vivi and I recently talked about downsizing once the boys move out. For years, I dreamed of having a big house where our grandchildren could come and visit. We talked about renovating the house once the kids were grown and out on their own. But I have realized that when that chapter comes, I may be ready to downsize, start fresh, and create a new home for this next season of my life.

And you know what? I am okay with that.

One of the biggest changes I have noticed is that I am allowing myself to be happy again without feeling guilty. I am learning that happiness does not mean I have forgotten you. Laughing doesn’t mean I miss you any less. Enjoying life doesn’t mean I am leaving you behind.

I can miss you and still make room for joy. I can love you, honor your memory, and still look forward to what life has waiting for me.

At work, I am meeting new coworkers, including some single coworkers whom I am getting to know and having fun with. Unlike last year, when I was simply trying to survive a new job while carrying so much grief, I am finally getting into the swing of things. I am tackling multiple projects, having conversations, and laughing with my leadership team. My nervous system feels calmer. I am surrounded by friends who bring calm, love, and positivity into my life.

This weekend, I made a declaration to myself: I am choosing to be happy.

I will smile. I will laugh. I will enjoy my life. I will appreciate the little things and stop waiting for a special occasion to enjoy them.

I will use my china dishes just because. I will dress up. I will wear my pearls. I will carry my Louis Vuitton bag wherever I want. I will buy my favorite perfume. I will enjoy beautiful things. I will be fancy!

Why? Because I can. Because life is too short. Because I have learned that we spend so much time saving things for later, waiting for the perfect occasion, the perfect moment, or the perfect reason.

Your death has taught me something I will never forget: Stop saving everything for later.

Tell people how much you appreciate them. Say “I love you.” Check in on your friends when something seems off. Reach out. Make the phone call. Plan the trip. Celebrate the little things. Don’t assume there will always be another opportunity. Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Sometimes, the perfect moment is simply the one you have right now.

And apparently, with my newfound glow and happiness, people have started wondering if I am ready to date again! It seems to be a question I get quite often, and honestly, I understand why people are curious. I am told it is because I am kind, have a big heart, and am still young.

And if I am being honest, this has been one of my biggest insecurities throughout this journey. I am 45 YEARS OLD!!! Sometimes I think that if I were in my late 20s or 30s, I wouldn’t feel quite so insecure about the idea of dating again. But then again, when younger guys express interest, I have to remind myself that I must not look that old after all. LOL!

I guess I am still figuring out what dating looks like at this stage of my life. I have told my closest friends that I am not interested in dating apps, nor am I particularly interested in dating a complete stranger.

BUT… if my family and friends happen to know a single man whom they think would be a great match for me, I am open to an introduction. LOL!

My very unofficial dating requirements:

• Loves Jesus: Someone who loves God and is happy to go to church every Sunday.
• Funny: I love to have fun and appreciate sarcasm. I need someone who can match my energy and doesn’t take life too seriously.
• Provider mindset: Someone who genuinely wants to take care of me and my kids.
• Strong family connections: Someone who values family, has good relationships with his parents and siblings, and understands the importance of family.
• Age: Older than me or a few years younger.

So, to my family and friends, if you know a single man who you think would be a great match for me, you know where to find me. LOL!

But in all seriousness, one year and five months later, I am learning that life can hold both grief and happiness. I can have days when I miss you terribly and days when I laugh until my stomach hurts. I can cry over a memory one moment and look forward to the future the next.

I am not the same woman I was before you left. Grief has changed me in ways I never imagined. But I am also discovering a version of myself who is stronger, more intentional, more appreciative, and more willing to live.

I will always wish you were here to experience all of this with me. I will always wish we had more time.

But since I cannot change that, I am going to make the most of the time I have.

I will keep doing the hard work. I will keep healing. I will keep loving. I will keep laughing. And I will keep living.

One year and five months without you, Rob. Still missing you. Still loving you. And finally learning that it is okay to be happy again. ❤️