Three days after my husband died, my older son’s family started with the coronavirus. One by one, the six of them were afflicted over a three week period. It was painful for our family to not be together to mourn.
Finally, after an additional two weeks, my son’s entire family was clear and able to come to my house together. It was glorious. I made chocolate chip cookies beforehand. We had lunch together. Then, we engaged in wonderful conversation while the kids played with my five month old puppy, Bailey. It was a beautiful day.
Then…my three year old granddaughter asked the question … “Where’s Grampa?”
She had not been to our house since he died because she was the last to get the coronavirus. Each of us froze on hearing her question.
My daughter-in-law calmly spoke, “He’s not here.”
The questioning continued, “Where is he?”
“Grampa is in heaven.” She explained.
My granddaughter, who had just turned three, seemed satisfied with the answer and continued to play.
My eyes filled with tears that flooded down into my mask. The reality of the loss was excruciating.
Grief is difficult and unavoidable. Sometimes it just comes out of the blue with an innocent question, a thought, a photo, or a memory. In those moments, give yourself the freedom to embrace all that you are feeling. I am. One day, each tear will be replaced by a beautiful memory.
Blessings,
Carol Marchant Gibbs
Stories Changing Lives