Reach Out

Grief is a shapeshifter. At different times of day. In different situations. With different emotions. Never predictable.

Sadness in the morning flows into distraction at work, met with joy of children that grows into anger about loss, followed by simple daily tasks that poke at grief for fear of forgetting.

I went to visit my mom this week. I sat on the ground – it was as close as I could get. I told her about my week, about her friend’s birthday, about her grandchildren. And my eyes rained sadness as though they were just now realizing she was there – and not there. I put flowers down for her and noticed the difference of the new stems with the old – a combination of flowers long gone and flowers new today. The scars of life, visible and vulnerable. Piled on mom with love and sorrow.


flower stems

The next two days, my grief lingered as though it was again raw and new. Shapeshifting into sadness at any given moment. Seeping into conversations that have nothing to do with mom. Seeping into everything.

So I reached out. I sent a text to my closest family – on the same strand in which Casey texted them from the hospital, “Anybody that can come should come now”. I told them I was struggling and needed kind words.

And they responded.

They sent me kindness, love, memories, emojis. And offered to come over and hug and cry with me.

Grief is a lot of things. And each person’s experience is different.

But what grief should not be – is lonely.

Please reach out. I am here. Others are here. You matter. I matter. Collectively we can support one another as grief shape shifts from one moment to the next.

And mom’s flowers were beautiful.


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