“Grief is like a delicate, slow dance you were never taught the steps to. You clumsily attempt to find your footing, and eventually, hopefully, it begins to feel fluid”
No truer words have ever been spoken of grief and what it looks like. No dance is the same, but many are similar. Like variations of a waltz, we all move slowly toward the same goal: coping. It’s never easy, as we stumble over two left feet and lose a shoe on the dance floor. Maybe even forget to take our partners hand from time to time. But it’s still a dance that we learn to do everyday.
I know that with Josh’s anniversary quickly approaching, I think more often of him. His smiling face and the things he did that made me laugh. Not many at work have heard his story or know that I have more going on then what they see. Somedays I think it would be better to just not try to explain it, but then I feel like I am trying to forget. I never want to forget, I never want to forget Josh, those moments and days in the hospital. The time I had with him and the person I have become because of him. I learned to be selfless because of my son, I want to never forget that.
I pray that my dance of grief shows strength in tears, a beautiful ball gown made chain mail. Glistening in the lights of the dance floor like a billion stars twinkling.
