“If what I am experiencing is heartbreak, then grieving is inevitable.” – Brene’ Brown

Yesterday was the 8th anniversary of Shaun’s death. Should we even call it an anniversary? I mean, Webster’s defines an anniversary as this:

Definition of anniversary

1: the annual recurrence of a date marking a notable event

a wedding anniversary broadlya date that follows such an event by a specified period of time measured in units other than years

the 6-month anniversary of the accident

2: the celebration of an anniversary

Webster’s Online Dictionary

So, I guess according to Webster’s ‘anniversary’ is the right term. Was yesterday hard? No. Not really. It was no harder or no better than any other day. I say this, because, every day, since the day of his death, he has been gone. Profound statement, right? The “anniversary” of the date, for me, means more to others than to me. I remember it all the time. The anniversary date – others remember. I have lived with the grief of his death for years.

Grief. What is it? It’s a lot of things to different people. Now, my grief is basically for my son. I have worked through my own over the years. I struggle with the fact though, that my son never got to know his father. I see that as a total tragedy. So to me, my definition of grief, is missing something that we never got to have. Missing the memories that will never get to be made. And this, this one thing – I can’t fix for him.

As a mom, we want to protect our kids and help them through the things life throws at them. This one thing, I can’t help. And I am not gonna lie, once I came to grips with the loss that I felt, I got angry. Rationally speaking, I know that Shaun couldn’t help it that he died. I know that. I was still angry, though. It has taken a lot of work, to forgive him. This is the best way I can describe it for those that haven’t lived it. Consider ‘your person’. Whether it be your spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, parent, adult child – pick one. Now, how would you feel, if they just up and left. No goodbye. No kisses. And you knew they up and left to live a millionaire lifestyle, where they could never get sick, never suffer, and could be eternally happy -and to do so, they had to leave like that. Do you want the best for your loved one? Yes. Would you feel resentful? Of course. Resentful that you are here, to pick up the pieces. Resentful over the plans that you had made together, and now they just dipped out. Resentful over having to be sad, while they are having a good time. I have been resentful over leaving me to tell a kid how it’s okay that his father is in heaven. Because, let’s be honest – it sucks for him.

Guess what I did, though? I forgave him. Forgiveness, that is the biggest way you can show love, right? I mean, I know I am so grateful for the folks who have forgiven me in my past, and I am grateful for the folks who will forgive me in the future. Forgiving, not only makes live better for you , it does for everyone. This is whether you are the forgiver or forgive-ee.

So, This is my “anniversary” post. I live Shaun’s death everyday. Not that it is always a conscious thing, but it is definitely something that impacted my whole life and makes me who I am today. Shaun was forgiven. So I forgave him, too. I am also doing a pretty good job raising his little boy, if I do say so myself. Although, I need to give credit where credit is due – I have had an army of people, rally around me. An army of people, held me up when I couldn’t stand alone. And today? It’s the same. Even in a new town – my support system, and those who love me are incredible. My children and I have been so blessed by those around us. I am forever grateful. I was looking for a pic to capture Shaun and Jacoby, I knew the one I wanted – but I guess that it is hidden in my archives somewhere. I ran across this one. And that is a true capture of him.

If you are struggling with Grief, talk to someone. Find a support system or group. And work on forgiveness. I say work on it – because it isn’t that simple.

Love Fully. Live Fully. Shine On.

Sat Nam.

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