Tag Archives: grief

Acceptance.

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Today I was finally able to say goodbye to my best friend. It was the most painful thing I have ever, ever done. I don’t know what I am going to do without her, but life goes on. It’s been ten months since we last hugged, laughed, shared a meal. I can picture my life going on without her in it now; it’s like a piece of myself is missing, and the phantom pains will linger a long time. But today – I cannot even say this out loud because it catches in my throat – today, I dressed the wound. I did not want to, but I cannot live raw forever. No one can. I felt for so long that to say goodbye, to acknowledge The End, would be to betray the decade we spent as sisters, to break a promise. She leaves a hole that, right now, I don’t even want to fill. That is Her Spot, and always will be. I will always love you, my dearest friend. Goodbye.

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Grief is such a strange thing.

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You can be going along, perfectly fine, and then WHAM, it sneaks up behind you and clubs you over the head, and the wound is fresh again. Tonight I found myself blindsided with grief for a dear old friend. We were supposed to raise our babies together and grow to be snarky old ladies. We were going to be the Golden Girls. I miss her so, but I thought I had entered Acceptance. Then tonight out of nowhere, I felt that same gut punch as if the loss had just happened. And in my hurt, God sent a friend with unexpected words to comfort me. This friend was a beacon of hope in my hour of need, a reminder that life goes on and old hurts do heal.