I recently read a description of grief. It illustrated grief in the beginning as a giant ball bouncing around in a very small square. Something we can't get away from. Every time we move or even breathe, the grief hits us. I've also read grief described like furniture in the middle of a dark room, where you can't see anything, but everywhere you move, you bump into it and you can't get around it. In both scenarios, the grief changes. In the first, the ball eventually becomes very small, but it is always in the room. It still hurts deeply when it hits you, but it isn't a constant. In the second scenario, the furniture eventually moves to where you can see it and get around it, finally settling as a painting on the wall- always there, but not something you are constantly bumping into.
I can relate with both of these descriptions. I know they aren't meant to be that simple. Grief is complex. But, I think it can give others imagery to relate to and understand our grief. Grief is always there. In our case, as is the case for many, we don't get over losing a child. It's not that simple. But, we learn to move forward, and find a way to live while being in the room with the grief. We still bump into it all the time, but it's not all consuming everything we do. But, it's there, like that huge painting on the wall. And, maybe it's beautiful now. Maybe, it's like our Mary-Linda, bringing light and hope to others in their time of grief. Maybe, just maybe?
On August 16th, 2020, we marked 3 years since our Mary-Linda was with us. It feels so surreal. These last 3 years have been brutal and beautiful. I don't know how to explain it any other way. So much heartache. But, again, I know that God was with us and is with us. So, we will keep on keeping on.
Below are photos from our celebration of Mary-Linda's life, 3 years in. And, photos from the day we all got to hold her. We will all forever hold her in our hearts until we can hold her in our arms again.