She’s hurting with a pain that most cannot comprehend or imagine. With each updated social media post my heart feels like I’m being taken back to those same moments I lived years ago when I lost my mother. She’s about to lose hers and with every post my stomach tangles in knots desperately wishing I could protect her from this suffering.
I’m praying for miracles, praying for comfort and for peace. Whispering words with fierce intentions to shield and protect her heart from the moments that are quickly approaching. With every new update it’s like being transported back to my experience all those years ago. I wish I could ease the pain. I wish I could disintegrate the fear and the anguish. I wish I could superglue her heart together to prevent the inevitable break that’s to come.
It’s tempting to hit “hide notifications” on her emotional updates. People love to hide from pain. People love to run from grief. People love to escape from the uncomfortable truths of what this life holds. I won’t hide from her pain no matter how much it resurfaces my own. Instead, I will lean in and I will show up. I will let her know she is not alone, even though it feels like her world is turning upside down and that gravity has failed to keep someone she loves here on earth.
I will lean in and show her I’m here because it’s proof that you can encounter great loss and indescribable pain and live through it. That you can breathe again after your breath has been temporarily taken. That you can carry on a legacy even when you can barely carry on.
She’s hurting, and though she’s only an acquaintance, the fact that I know the delicate conflictions of her prayers, the anxiety of her fears, and the debilitating loss that is about to find her, proves I must show up for her in any capacity that I can. I must pray for her. I must send persistent support, strength and comfort to the room in which she sits. Once you have been in the seat next to someone awaiting death your heart feels an empathy and tenderness for others as if it were your own.
She’s hurting. Do you see it? Can you feel it? Show up for her. Don’t ask if she needs you, she does. Don’t ask what she needs, she doesn’t know. Don’t just tell her you are praying, but actually pray. Don’t tell her you are here for her, show her. Show up for her, however she needs you, however you can.
She’s hurting with a pain most cannot imagine. Show up for her. She needs you. And she’ll keep needing you because soon she’ll live with a constant companionship of grief. She’ll learn that grief’s only comfort is love. Show up and love her, however you can, however she needs.
She’s hurting and she needs you.
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.