Ernest Hemingway once wrote, “The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn as an adult is the relentless need to keep going, no matter how shattered I feel inside.”  The loss of our child was an event that happened in an unnatural order.  It was sudden, unexpected and brutal. To say we felt shattered – well, that is an understatement. It has challenged every fiber in our being and in so doing, has taught us more than we wanted to know about grief and loss. We are part of a “club” they say – that no one wants to be a member of. But still, we have a daughter, a family, more lessons to learn and more lessons to share. And so, we keep going. 

Grief caused by the loss of a child is always just under the surface of all our other emotions – even happiness. When friends see us happy, they shy away from bringing up Hayden for fear of “ruining our happy moment”.  We would much rather lose it – for a moment – in front of our friend, than to have them not speak his name or tell us of a cherished memory. Life is a balance of holding grief in one hand and a happy life in the other. Sometimes laughter will turn into tears and other times tears will turn into laughter. We have to constantly remind ourselves that while we are experiencing grief – at the same time – we are creating memories with our daughter and enjoy the happiness in the present with her.  Loss demands us to focus on the present – not dwell on the past or worry about the future.  Grief will never leave us. It ebbs and flows and it is ok if we allow ourselves to feel every high and every low.  And so, we keep going.

We have learned to appreciate every minute with loved ones. Things we used to take for granted, we now soak in.  We have learned to allow ourselves grace. It’s ok to have our “moments” or our “day”.  It’s ok.  We have learned – if you allow it – the power of love is greater than the power of grief.  We have learned – we have a VILLAGE! A village of friends, both far and near, and family who love us.  Who love Hayden. Who are there for us, time and time and time again.  Who know what to say or what to send or what to do at just the time needed.  Who also know when to just be there – no words – just be there. Love doesn’t disappear with death and grief doesn’t disappear with time.  It doesn’t get better – it gets different. We still have a life to live – yes its hard, sometimes its messy, its exhausting, and sometimes it feels as if we cannot take another step. But I am reminded by the words of a beautiful song “what if the trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise.” As hard as it was – and still is – it WAS merciful.  And so, we keep going.