Honestly, it used to be a word I hated. I hated what it did to people, turned them into someone I didn't even recognize. Changed memories into something much prettier. Made regular people into saints. And made me feel lost.
I don't know how far I have come from those feelings. Mourning someone who hated tears is hard. But it has to be done. I guess I have been healing through stories and special days. Being a mama to littles makes grief harder and lso more bearable. There are no silent moments to cry and feel sad, when little ones are running around. But there are still moments, when you hold you newborn baby and want to call him to tell him he is an uncle, again. Or when you see so much of him in your babies and wish you could call to tell him. Those are the moments I have.
Grief can shape you in so many ways. It shaped our family size. I desperately wanted my children to have that bond with someone, to fight like cats and dogs, but want to die when they feel pain. To experience that bond at a young age is somethign I was blessed to have. I know for so many reasons this isn't common, but I dearly hope it takes place in our family.
6 and a half years later, I still miss him liek it was yesterday and finally I have stopped fighting it. Tears come and go more than I had planned, but my babies have become little children who understand how much Uncle Matty meant to mama. And thankfully I am confident they know how precious they would have been to him.
So, I have handed everyone back their right to grieve and set off with my own idea of what that means.