This side of heaven

This side of heaven

A friend sent me this song the other day. If there was ever a song that explains exactly how I feel every single day, this is it. How will this side of heaven ever feel right without my Joe?

My friend and I had a long conversation about loss. She is no stranger to it. We talked about how hard it is to breathe most days. I was reminded as we chatted that her grief is so different from mine in many ways. She lost her adult son not so long ago, and I learned that she lost her first love as well many years ago. My son is almost 37 now and I can’t imagine losing him. My heart breaks for my friend, and for my mother-in-law, and for anyone who has lost a child.

The sorrow left behind from such enormous loss is all-encompassing on most days. People say time heals. I don’t necessarily believe that. Time passes. It allows memories to fade. It doesn’t heal our wounds, but rather allows scars to form over them making them less painful, and less noticeable to others.

Most of my days are set on autopilot. Wake up, shower, go to work, come home, go to bed. There are bright spots in between here and there. Like lunch with my son, last night’s 80th birthday party for my mother-in-law, or dinner out with friends.

I’m doing my best to be strong. I spent many days during Joe’s cancer journey being strong. I was strong while my dad suffered through the bladder cancer that took him away from us. I was strong while my mom battled the dementia that took her away from us. I was strong every day at Joe’s bedside after his cardiac arrest. And when he didn’t recover, and I had to let him go, I stood strong and made the hardest decision I’d ever made in my life. And I promised him I would continue to be strong.

I know he sees me breaking that promise most days, but he knows I’m trying.

How will this side of heaven ever feel right without him? The short answer is it won’t. Nothing will ever be the same again. Nothing will ever be normal. But I have to find my new way forward.

I know there is a lot of life left to live, and he will be in my heart for all of it until my soul is home with his.


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2 responses to “This side of heaven”

  1. Laura Videtti Avatar
    Laura Videtti

    This is a beautiful song Kelly reminding us our loved ones just went on ahead to save us a seat. You are so right that everyone’s grief is unique. You have experienced back to back to back losses in a short period of time. Our dear mutual friend experienced a loss no parent should have to.

    Some days being on autopilot is all you can do.

    Grief has made me truly understand the meaning of one day at a time. When my husband’s sister died twenty years ago we all promised each other to live life to the fullest in her memory. And for 16 years my husband and I did which I’m proud of. Dan made it easy for me as he didn’t want cancer to stop him from living. People say I’m strong but he was the strong one. So I live life and there are happy moments but I know I’m not living life to the fullest and I need to change that.

    Now in the dark cold days of January I realize I am now processing my dad’s death. The grief of losing a parent is less intense for lack of a better word than losing a spouse at least for me but grief nonetheless. And reminds me of some of my husband’s last words to me which were “Sorry to leave you with all of this”. Not knowing what all of this was I said in reply. “It’s ok. I’ll be fine”.

    Thanks for sharing your thoughts. You are helping others as you heal. Sending you love and hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Kelly Pike Avatar

      Thank you Laura. We have all suffered such loss. I’m grateful for the strong, resilient women in my life like you and so many others. Seems like we are all traveling the same path these days. I’m grateful we’re doing it together.

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