Grief and healing after a loss can mean different things for everyone. While we share many common feelings as survivors, each of us travels a deeply personal journey. While we may relate to each other’s pain, our individual experiences are unique, and we talk about our feelings in different ways. For many, the word and possibility of “healing” just doesn’t feel right or truly fit after such a big loss.
I’ve discussed this topic many times, but my earlier forum posts were made years ago. The week my son Preston died, a distant relative reached out to me and shared the heartbreaking story of losing her daughter when a school bus hit her, twelve years prior. She invited me to join an online group for mothers who had lost children. I tried it, but soon realized that these mothers were in a state of what I can only describe as suspended animation. Even after ten to fifteen years, they were still consumed by their grief. I instinctively knew I couldn’t live that way.
I used to refer to myself as “healed,” but I’ve grown to prefer the term “healing.” I don’t believe we can ever fully heal from such a profound loss. However, we can learn to live with it and even find joy in life again. I often express how I honor my son, Preston, who left us 17 years ago, by trying to live my life the way he couldn’t. Being part of this community supports my own healing process.
I believe we begin healing (for lack of a better word) when we allow ourselves to process emotions that arise. Ignoring, avoiding, or burying uncomfortable emotions is a critical mistake. If not expressed, they can linger and fester within us, and possibly manifest later, in ways that harm our mental and physical health.
We are on the path to healing when we can look back and smile at memories of our loved ones, even sharing laughter while recounting stories with those who knew them. It’s in these moments that we may realize they are still with us. In the early stages of grief, we may struggle to see their signs because we are too raw and emotional, but those signs are indeed there. We come to understand what they would want for us: to continue living our lives. They don’t want us to suffer. I’ve often heard that we wouldn’t mourn as intensely if we could see where they are now.
I know that those new to this journey often feel like they will never be happy again, but I assure you, it is possible. The healing process takes time and unfolds gradually. We possess deep reservoirs of strength within us to guide us through even the darkest times. Ultimately, it becomes a choice: to dwell in misery or to seek joy again. We are not leaving our loved ones behind or betraying their memory. We will never forget them or what they meant to us. Our love transcends death and endures beyond the physical realm. We are made of energy, and even when the body passes, that energy continues to exist. Our loved ones can still hear us and feel our emotions.
I will always miss Preston, and there are still moments when tears come easily. That feeling will never fade; not a single day passes without thoughts of him. He remains as dear to me now as he always has been, and he knows that.
With this in mind, please know there is hope for you to rejoin the living. We do change, but that change can be positive if we choose it.
