The unstoppable tears have diminished over the years. It could have happened sooner if I didn’t hold onto my grief like a life line.  I would get to a place among the tears when I could have stopped if only I listened to the reasonable and encouraging words fighting their way into my mind and heart.  The tears were winning the battle over words like, you’re alright, find a good memory, you have so many good things in your life, you’re stronger than you know, or just stop.  Extreme moments of grief actually felt good; there was comfort there and release, even though it didn’t last.  At first it felt like grief was my roommate; what was keeping me company.  It was there when no one else was and the tears were the only way we could connect when things got hard.  There’s still sadness, loneliness, and anger, but there’s also strength that wasn’t there before.  Strength to realize these things are only a small part of who I am.  They don’t get to take over my entire being and incapacitate me.  My will is stronger than they are so I get to choose finding joy over falling into sorrow.


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