Alone. In the darkness, often feeling so incredibly hopeless. This was my reality of my grief for many, many months after Lily left this earth. Most don’t get the utter despair that comes with watching your child take their last breath. It’s hard to explain to others what it’s like feeling so empty. Feeling like there is this gaping hole in your heart that is never, ever going to be filled.
There were so many times in the first year after Lily died that I wondered if anyone would ever get it. Would I ever feel less alone in this life of continual grief? A life with PTSD. This summer I found a group of people who had all felt the same feelings, same challenges, same experiences that I did.
I was no longer alone.
It was a beautiful moment to be surrounded by people who knew what those last breaths looked like. Others who know exactly the heartache that takes over your life. I felt so comforted, so supported, and for the first time in a year, not alone.
I remember thinking that I would hate being in a grief group. I personally don’t like constantly talking about the fact that my child has died. But our GFPD Sensing Connections Grief Support group was so far from that. I was suddenly immersed i