I don’t think we ever truly recover from a loss. There is, however, a road to slow recovery from the acute pain that follows it. We go through stages, skip some and probably go back to square one, just like a dance. I’m coping with mine, my own way, because there isn’t one right perfect way. It may not be the best, but it’s helping me get through the first months. In three days, it will have been two months without her. Just like an alcoholic counting every minute of their first years sober, I now count the time that elapses without her, which, already feels like far too long.
I’m trying really hard to keep busy. I’m fortunate to have a job I love that keeps me grounded and fulfilled, but it’s not enough to fill the void left by grandmother. I’m, however, succeeding at trying to meet friends more often than I used to for dinners, hikes, concerts, and activities that keep me from ruminating too much, because if left to my own devices for too long, my mind wonders off into that open wound that stings all too much.
Today, I was alone for longer than I expected, so, inevitably my mind started wondering there, to her, to how much I miss her, to wondering whether I ever told her this or that, to whether she ever saw the pictures I sent, to resenting being a few minutes late to her last breath so I could hold her tight before she left, not doing so alone.
Loss of a loved one is inevitable. It will hurt, make us crazy, make us feel adrift, lost, and lonely , but maybe, we will be more able to cope if we wholeheartedly learn our own coping mechanism next time around.