An extended family member of mine recently went through the death of her second child. I’ve often felt connected to her because of the grief in my own life and since my brother died just one month before her son, I frequently check in on her facebook account to see what she’s posting about grief. I also frequently check in on my sister-in-laws page to see how she is. After looking at it today, it inspired me to write this.

The grief you’ve known

The tears you’ve cried

It’s immeasurable

and much of the time it’s seen only in the quiet places.

In the empty parking lots or winding country roads

In the hotel or the hospital room

In their empty bedroom

It’s in the dead of night or the misty early morning light

In the darkened closet or the bathroom stall

The world knows you must be grieving but they don’t ask

Grief isn’t always lonely

because others don’t understand, but because others don’t enter in.

Blessed are those who ask the uncomfortable questions.

The ones who remember and reach out,

The ones who give you a knowing look or a hug that’s a bit longer and tighter than normal.

The ones who don’t change the subject when you bring them up, or worse, pretend life is just as it always has been.

Thank you to the ones who enter in, to that dark sacred place of grief. May you be that person. May I be that person.