I still mother them….

There are certain sayings that people throw around when you’re hurting.

“You have to go through it to get over it.”

For a long time, I hated hearing that. It felt too simple for something that was anything but simple. When you’re standing in the middle of the worst day of your life, the last thing you want to hear is that the only way out is straight through it.

You spend so much time wishing there was another way. A way around the grief. Around the heartbreak. Around the fear. Around the anxiety. Around the moments that literally take your breath away. You bargain with yourself. You stay busy. You try to distract yourself. You tell yourself you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

But tomorrow always comes.

I’ve learned something I wish wasn’t true. Pain waits. It doesn’t care how busy you are. It doesn’t care how many meetings you have, how many people need you, or how many smiles you put on for everyone else. Eventually it sits down right beside you and says, “It’s time.”

Losing Vincent taught me that.

Losing Gabriella confirmed it.

There wasn’t a class I could take. There wasn’t a book I could read. There wasn’t a person who could carry that pain for me. The people who love me have walked beside me every step of the way, and thank God for them, because I would never have made it without them. But they couldn’t walk through it for me.

That part belonged to me.

Some days going through it looked like getting dressed and going to work because people were counting on me. Some days it looked like crying in my car. Some days it looked like laughing with my grandchildren and then crying the whole ride home because I wished their mom was there to see them. That’s grief. It doesn’t stay in one lane.

People tell me all the time that I’m strong.

The truth is, most days I’m just showing up.

I’m choosing to put one foot in front of the other. I’m choosing to keep doing the work that gives my pain purpose. I’m choosing to keep loving the people who are still here while carrying the people who aren’t.

That’s not strength.

That’s survival.

If you’re in the middle of something tonight, whatever your “it” is, I won’t tell you to get over it. I won’t tell you time heals all wounds because I don’t believe that’s true.

I believe we learn to carry things we never wanted to carry.

We learn to breathe again.

We learn to laugh without feeling guilty.

We learn that joy and heartbreak can sit at the same dinner table.

And one day you realize you didn’t get over it.

You got through it.

There’s a difference.

And if you’re still breathing… if you’re still putting one foot in front of the other… then you’re doing exactly what you need to do.

Keep going.

Hope has a way of finding people who refuse to quit.