5 years ago today we found out the devastating news that just days before our daughter was due to be born the cancer was back. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the image of walking into our bedroom to find Brandon on his knees at the side of the bed talking to the doctor. It’s one of those moments that is forever burned into one’s memory, along with these stupid trigger dates. There’s no way to fight the tears and feels that bring you back to that exact moment when your life was forever changed, and 5 years later I wonder if that will ever lighten.
We had yet to know how aggressive it was; 5 years ago. We held onto blind hope. Hope for 5 more years before it would take his life. But it was only 12 short and awful weeks.
5 years marks a new kind of milestone in the grieving community. It’s challenging. We feel we should be “over it” but that just will never be the case. I don’t want to feel the pain of loss, but I also don’t ever want it not to hurt because what would that mean?
I feel like 5 years ago was a whole lifetime ago, and not even my own life. I often have to take a moment to reflect on what I have endured, and what I persevered through, gracefully or not.
I continue to have flashbacks of traumatic moments from this exact moment 5 years ago; and all the utterly deveatating moments that incurred over the following 12 weeks. They still take my breath away and hurt so deep.
It’s bittersweet. I can’t think of any other way to describe it. Bitter in the loss, pain and trauma that had to be endured. But sweet because it wouldnt continue to hurt so much if I hadn't shared a love so deep and true. Love is a commitment more than anything else. It is a selfless action and choice, and for that reason on days like today I take a moment to remember and honor the love I shared and commitment I made, til death do us part...and forever after that apparently.
Ultimately I’m grateful for where I am now, 5 years later. Aria’s needs have always been my priority, amongst balancing the need for self care so I can be the best mom I could possibly be. I haven’t done it perfectly, but I think Brandon would know my heart has always been in the right place.
The next 12 weeks, as a seasoned griever I now know, will bring many moments of pain. It hurts differently now though. It’s not as “active” and “overwhelming”. It’s more “reflective”. I can continue on with life in the midst of these moments, and not be debilitated in the aftermath.
Grief never goes away it just transforms. It adapts to you and you adapt to it. And I think that’s the best we can do with it. We all want to get rid of it, but we can’t. So we adapt to it and move forward with it.
