Thank you for your love and your support. I see you and it means a lot. Your efforts to help me maneuver through this new life are appreciated. I’m different now and I know it. Let me be different. This is a new me, the me without my mother.
For now, you can’t possibly understand the pain of my loss. Sadly, one day you will. I wish this wasn’t the case. I wish I could prevent you from ever comprehending the pain and sadness that I feel. The reality is, one day this debilitating loss will find you. When it does, know this:
I’m here. Always. Not to speak, but to listen. I will listen intently to the pain in your heart and the sorrow in your soul. It won’t be easy to hear your sadness, but I will sit and listen because it is so important. For your heart, for your healing, and for your new path.
I’m here. Always. Not to take away your pain, but to sit with you in it. It is a pain that will never go away, no matter how hard you try. So, when it pops up and tries to prevent you from moving forward, I will be there to sit and wait for it to briefly pass.
I’m here. Always. Ready and waiting, knowing soon enough, this permanent grief will find you again, and sometimes when you least expect it.
I’m here. Always. Not to lessen your heartbreak, but to remind you to breathe, and eventually to help you laugh again. I’m here to provide friendship, moments, and memories that will help you forget about your pain, even if only for a few minutes.
I’m here. Always. Not to push your grief aside, but to show you how to use your grief to motivate you in new and refreshing ways. First, grief will paralyze you. Eventually, you’ll find it motivates you in the most unique and meaningful ways.
I’m here. Always. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s confusing or exhausting or inconvenient. I am here, always.
I will be here because I know your pain. I’ve lived it. I’ll be here because I know the journey you are about to tackle. You will be forever different, and I will be here, always.
A thirty-something wife, mother and educator who has Indiana roots and a passionate spirit. Chelsea is a sappy romantic, coffee junkie, book collector, and person who wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s sarcastic, full of jokes, full of tears, and enjoys writing most when life gets messy or complicated. In 2017, Chelsea's mother passed away. Through her grief journey, she decided to take her mother’s advice and share her writing with the world. One day she gained the courage to honor her mother's wishes and write. It turned out to be one of the best decisions she's ever made.