What I wish I’d known

I wish someone had told me that the pain is worst at night. The world gets quiet, and the thoughts get loud. Scenes replay on loop. 

I wish someone had told me the reminders of you are like ghosts. Friendly, but unwelcome. 

I wish someone had told me about the guilt I would feel. 

I wish someone had told me that the deepest grief would hit at some of the most joyous moments. Trying to juggle both feels impossible. 

I wish someone had told me what it would  be like the first time I told an acquaintance you were gone. 

I wish someone had told me how empty the world would feel without you. 

 I wish someone had told me the little milestones could be more painful than the big ones. 

I wish someone had told me how awful it feels to be on the receiving end of people’s pitying gaze. How, the I’m sorrys feel practiced. But are genuine. How the quiet thank you in response is just the same. 

I wish someone had told me how I will want to cling to anything that makes me feel connected to you.

I wish someone had told me that denial isn’t just refusing to accept reality. But is also the random thoughts of disbelief that this is my life now and you’re really gone. Or the times I still talk about you in the present tense. Because using the last tense doesn’t feel right. And hurts too much. 

I wish someone had told me that along with grieving your loss I’d also grieve the moments I won’t get to share with you. Those hurt more. 

I wish someone had explained what they meant when they said grief is like a wave. Yes, it comes and goes. But, when it comes it’s all encompassing. Unlike tides, it isn’t predictable. 

I wish someone had told me that as supportive as people are, they can’t do the one thing I desperately want. Bring you back. So I process alone.

I wish someone had told me that the God winks you send me while comforting still hurt some too. 

I wish someone had told me that even though time passes and I move forward, it still feels like just yesterday that I lost you.

But maybe it’s better not to know. Because we might feel the urge to protect ourselves more than we already do. After all, what is grief if not love persevering? 

“Life’s like an hour glass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button girl. So cradle your head in your hands and breathe. Just breathe”