Saturday, August 8, 2020
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L is for Longing (The permanent ache)

L is for LongingTime has not healed me. Time will not heal me. Yes, I believe I am healing, but there is a difference between healing and healed. The first is a process; the second is an end that I will not reach until I am with my babies again, an end that I will not reach in this lifetime.

What time has done for me is dull the edges of grief. It’s made the sharp, breathless, world-is-spiraling, chest-is-aching kind of pain less pronounced, less consistent, and replaced it with longing—a much softer companion.

I take this longing wherever I go. I feel it in my bones, in my gut, in my chest. It’s with me when I think of my children, when I write of them, when my hand instinctively reaches for and touches my pendant and this touch invokes their names: Calvin, Rainbow, Gaelen. This longing is with me when I look at their father. It’s with me when I see other children and wonder what my three (I have three!) would be doing if they had lived.

I take this longing wherever I go. It reminds me that I am their mother, and I will always long for my babies.

Is it the same for you?

Has time changed changed your grief at all? Which part of your grieving has taken permanent residence in your heart?

This post is a part of a series called Unpacking Grief, which I began as part of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

Crystal is a mother-wife-writer whose explorations include parenting, grief, food, and semi-crunchy living. She is currently an MFA in writing student, a content editor for Still Standing Magazine, and the technical editor for Switchback.

0 thoughts on “L is for Longing (The permanent ache)

  1. I think LONGING is a perfect word for what I feel too. Grief is lighter to carry around but I feel the longing everywhere I go. When hubby and I see a girl right around Joey’s age, we both turn away and he tells me “I know…” Every time I see a friend pregnant or with her recent newborn on Facebook, I ache with that longing for my own child.

    1. Those words, “I know…” say so much don’t they? I never thought I could get to a point where I could look at a baby around Calvin’s age and smile (yes, the longing is still there) instead of cringe and want to go running in the opposite direction. But a little over two years later, and it does happen. It’s nice to have this longing with me. Newborns (and sometimes preggos) are another story though… I’m still working on that.

  2. I think it is a constant healing and the end of healing is never reached until we are with our babies again.

    Time has def changed my grief. It is lighter and easier to bear-it doesn’t weigh me down like it used to or consume me. I still think of my babies but not with as much sadness. Much more joy!

  3. I like to call grief a roller coaster. It comes and goes. People expect that when certain events in your life occur, that you are cured. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Sometimes it brings back rawness and newness of the grief. Some periods of time are easier then others. *hugs*

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." (Ephesians 4:29)

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