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January 24, 2023

Back to Work After Loss

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I had it wrong when I thought I knew what #grief w

I had it wrong when I thought I knew what #grief was.. 💗

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother #loss

I just have to look for it differently…💚 ©

I just have to look for it differently…💚

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother #loss

This holiday season…🎄❤️ © Chelsea Ohle

This holiday season…🎄❤️

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother #loss

💚 © Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshreali

💚

© Chelsea Ohlemiller: www.hopeandharshrealities.com (link in bio) Follow Happiness, Hope & Harsh Realities on FB for more content.
#grief #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness #motherlessdaughter #motherlessdaughters #losingamother #loss

He holds my hand as I listen to the priest conduct

He holds my hand as I listen to the priest conduct my mother’s funeral services. His love and empathy are evident. I’m scared that soon I’ll be too difficult to love– too broken, too hurt, too grief-stricken and shattered. I’m worried that this new version of me, the one without a mother, will be so different than before he won’t recognize me, or worse, that he won’t know how to love this new version of myself that grief has shifted me to.

I hope he handles me with care.

It’s only been weeks since my mother’s final goodbye when I find myself at the same desk I’ve sat at for years. It both looks and feels different than before. Oddly though, it hasn’t changed at all. I’m the one that’s changed, the thing that’s different. As coworkers begin to fill the hallways, I know soon they’ll find me to offer condolences and compassion. Fear stirs in my soul. Will they be patient with me as I step into this new life, this unwanted motherless role? Will they give me grace and also space?

I pray they handle me with care.

I can hear the laughter as I walk to my friends at the restaurant table. It’s been a few months since I’ve been able to join them again. Grief has changed my priorities and also my energy. It’s changed everything. On the outside I probably look the same, but on the inside I’m messy and complicated and heartbroken. But here I am, trying to show up anyway, trying to surround myself with my biggest supporters and my life-long friends. I pray they don’t treat me like an outsider or as someone whose pain makes them uncomfortable. I pray they can love me through this.

I hope they handle me with care.

My family, my friends, my coworkers, each and every person that I know– I pray they handle me with care.
The strangers on the street, the employees at the store, the neighbors and church-goers that pass me– I pray they handle me with care.

Grief is harsh. It stings and it aches and it changes— everything.
It needs gentleness.
And warmth.
And understanding.
And hope, and love, and more than anything…
It needs care.

Please, everyone, handle me with care.

xox, Chels

#grief #griefquotes #griefandloss #griefjourney #griefsupport #griefawareness

It’s been four years since my mother passed. Thi

It’s been four years since my mother passed. This will be our fifth holiday season without her. When she left us, I tucked away some memorable traditions. They were too painful to experience without her. I refused to watch and relish in some of the things we used to do together. They felt harsh and empty.

This year I got a little more courageous than the few before. I decorated not one, but two, Christmas trees. I went all out, embracing the joy and beauty of the holiday season. I even started watching Hallmark movies and other Christmas movies we used to enjoy cuddled up together. Things I haven’t done since she passed. Things I haven’t done in years.

Embracing Christmas seemed to be working, which led to even more bold and brave endeavours. One evening, snuggled up with my husband, I declared I was ready to watch The Family Stone. A movie I used to love and one I used to watch with my mother. A movie that when it came out, didn’t hold the meaning and sentiment it now does. A movie that was locked in a vault the moment my mother passed, for it was too real, too vulnerable, too heartbreaking.

We hit play. I watched, though in all honesty, it took two days to finish. I cried. I sobbed. I ached in ways that felt so fresh it was as if I was experiencing the first Christmas without my mother all over again. As my husband wrapped his arms around me, embracing me in my messy emotion, I wondered if being able to watch this movie was an achievement or rather the start of a huge downward spiral in grief and loss.

I knew at that moment I had a choice. Feel accomplished for attempting this small feat or allow the dark parts of grief to unplug the sparkle of the holiday spirit that had found me. I reached for my dictionary. It sits on my bedside. Sometimes, when I need to feel the signs from above, I’ll open this book to a random page and pray it speaks to me.

I was praying for a sign, seeking guidance from the heavens in this bedside dictionary. I opened up to a random page. Immediately a word popped off the page: pace. At first glance, it meant nothing. CONTINUED IN COMMENTS…

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