Grief: A Seesaw Journey

Yesterday marked 17 months since I was told Melanie was gone from this earth and I must admit, some days are still so darn hard. This grief journey reminds me of a seesaw, but without any of the fun we had as kids.

There continue to be countless days when it all still seems so unreal.  She can’t really be gone. Surely, she is just away and will be calling or stopping by any day now. But, it takes only a moment for the hard realization to hit me like a ton of bricks to the chest.

Some days I feel like a soldier ready for battle and other days I feel like a wounded warrior.

This is the life of a griever – up and down, just like the seesaw.

Over the past two weeks we were blessed to be able to see most of our kids and all four of our grandchildren. It’s been such a joy after not seeing them for almost 2 years due to the travel restrictions Covid brought.

Yet with the joy, came a harsh reminder, followed by an overwhelming sadness. Melanie is not going to show up, bounding through the door with her infectious smile and a big, warm hug. No, it’s not the travel restrictions of Covid keeping her away.

The tears have been coming a bit more frequently the past few days, but I know this too shall pass. Like the warrior within me, I will pick myself up and dust myself off, eventually.

Tears are part of our healing, so it’s OK to not be OK.

When you were a kid, did you have a friend who would come along and hop on the other side of the seesaw? They didn’t want to go up and down. No, they just sat there to help balance you out.

If we are fortunate enough, there are times in our life, when we have someone who will come along and offer to sit with us and simply hold still.

They may just sit and listen. Or perhaps, they share a story about our loved one.

I’m so grateful for those friends who continue to walk with me during this season of life, who still call or text frequently to check on me. And, I’m especially grateful for those who aren’t afraid to say Melanie’s name. Their steady hand along this bumpy ride is something I will forever be thankful for.

Yes, there are some days that may seem darker than others. But the light always shines brightest in the dark. I’m determined that even during these seesaw moments of my grief journey, when my light may be slightly dimmed, I will never allow it to be fully extinguished. 

My hope will continue to remain in the one thing I can truly count on and his name is Jesus.