I’m a little lost. I’m different. I’m rebuilt from the destruction caused by grief. I may look the same, but the sparkle inside of me seems to have been replaced with sorrow. Grief depleted the light, with its quick entrance, and replaced it with merciless darkness.
Will you meet me here? Where I am. A place I’ve never known until now, a girl new to me too.
Will you love me unconditionally and wrap me in your comfort? Will you learn to get butterflies for this new version of me? Will you take me as I was, and also as I am now? Will you meet me here, in this new space and composition?
I’m not the girl you once knew. I’m far more fragile and far more delicate. I’m bruised and still healing. I see more darkness than I used to, and I long for things that simply no longer exist.
Do you think you can meet me here?
I’m broken and damaged. I’m confused and cloudy headed. I’m angry and I’m anxious.
Do you think you can meet me here? Where I am. Raw and authentically damaged, but still worthy of love and additional adventure.
I can’t control what tomorrow will look like or how fast or slow I’ll grasp this new reality, but I promise to keep stepping. Moving forward, not on, but constantly striving to see more of the sun, rather than the darkness of the shadows.
Can you meet me here? Can you love me here? Can you be patient with me here, like this?
As I walk into this new life, I will constantly be carrying a heavy load of ache and longing. I’m no longer whole, as pieces of me have escaped and shattered.
Can you meet me here? Can you walk with me as I carry this pain? Will you meet me here and love me with the same passion and lust?
Can you help awaken the pieces of me that remain? Can you help me find joy again? The smiles. The happiness. The beauty of the world. Those things became invisible to me once grief came. I know they exist, I see them all in you, I simply need to find them again, to recognize them again.
All I want is what I had. The girl that had a mother. The girl living free of grief. The girl with zest, charisma, and spunk. Though pieces of that girl and life are perished forever, our love is as alive as the day we met. Can you meet me here, and begin to love this new me, as much as you loved the one I was before?
Can you meet me here, and sit with me, and love me, and comfort me, and be willing to watch as I try to reconnect with life and it’s beauty?
I love you and pray you can meet me here, in this grief, and love the new person it’s created.
I definitely can meet you there. Because I love all of you— even the parts that appear broken. It’s in your struggle that you have become your best self. And it’s this person that I continue to fall in love with daily.
These words echo in my soul. I too had someone meet me there and I am forever changed. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks for reading! I hope you continue to find encouragement on my page. xox, Chels
You nailed it. For me it is my 28 year old son. My husband is more damaged than I. My friends, extended family. pets & pages like this are my support system now. Keep on posting. You’re doing good work.
Cherie, thank you so much for your kind and supportive words. I wish I had words worthy of your pain and heartbreak. Please know that you are loved and prayed for from afar. xox, Chels
Though I’ve lost four loved ones in the past year and a half your words actually speak to me in a different way. It’s me who has “died” inside…who has lost herself from the loss of me. Not knowing who I am anymore…who I wish to be…damaged and broken from the traumatic events I’ve experienced throughout life. Recovery has been a long, difficult struggle. I’ve come through the most difficult parts, but there are still times I just feel blinded by the past. Thank you for sharing such resonating words! Definitely profound to say the least.
Catrina, I feel your words so deeply. Thank you for taking the time to share a piece of your story. I’m honored to read your emotion and experience. I’m lifting you in so much love, comfort and hope on your grief journey. You are not alone. xox, Chels