Keep Fighting the Good Fight
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Keep Fighting the Good Fight


There are days when I still try hard to remember

the happiness that I felt prior to Bo passing away.

There are days where I still have to shake my head and

tell myself that I'm not dreaming.

Have you ever wanted something so badly, that your heart pined for it?

Now, I'm not only talking about child loss, but anything in life.

If you wanted a job that you worked so hard to get, or a test that you worked so hard to pass.

It's difficult because in the mind of a child loss parent,

the thoughts could be,

"Your problems don't at all compare to mine!"

or "You don't know what REAL hurt is!"

And then I would be caught in a rage of .... well, hell.

I've lost friends over the fact that the comparison was made.

But what I've come to learn is that there is no real comparison.

Each loss in significantly different. Each child loss situation is different,

just as each loss in general is different.

Even though grief is debilitating and at times,

most of the time, a disastrous storm worthy of a multitude of great sorrow-

I've come to learn that no loss is worse.

Yes there's a "natural order", if you prefer to get technical.

Our society, from the moment you're a parent says,

It's not "normal" to "lose" a child.

It's an unnatural order.

While this may be true, and parents are designed to pass before their children,

It certainly doesn't make the loss of a child any easier.

It doesn't make the loss of your parent any easier.

Loss is loss. And in your heart, there is something missing.

The one that you love dearly, isn't physically here with you.

This hurts.

Detrimentally so.

Regardless, society has a grip on our thoughts.

Whether it be one way or another,

they leave you to suffer.

And suffer in silence.

This is not fair to the griever.

This is not fair to the mourner.

This is not fair to the heartbroken.

Whether your child was 10, 20, or in my case, just shy of 1 year old.

We grieve. For the memories that we lost,

for the memories that we made,

for the time that we had,

or the time that we didn't get to have.

Grief is real.

Grief is ever present in so many people.

And yet, we're discouraged to talk about it.

Think on that for a second.

If you're coworker came up to you and said,

"I really just miss my mom.." and began to cry.

Would you hug them? To stop them from crying?

Or would you sit down and say,

"Lets talk about her, what was her name?"

Or if a coworker took a specific day off of work,

every year because that was the day her sweet little

boy passed away- but that day happened to be an

inconvenient day for you to work and cover her shift.

You wouldn't think twice about complaining about it.

And not thinking twice about the agony that she lives through.

Day in and day out.

Or your best friend, who is suffering through a miscarriage.

She's mourning a baby that she never got to hold.

She never got to meet.

The truth is,

WE LIVE IN A SELFISH SOCIETY.

A society that needs more compassion.

A society that needs more LOVE.

A society that needs more GODLY LOVE!

The love that says, "I'm here and although I don't understand

what you're going through, I'm still going to be here..."

Dreaming. I know.

Dreaming that this will one day be the outlook.

But maybe not.

Maybe if we're conscious about how we react to the griever,

we could potentially turn this epidemic around.

You could possibly save a life.

Did you know that?

Just by kindness and compassion.

Just by showing love.

An emotion that you are biologically programmed to feel and show.

Try to be more compassionate.

Child loss is real.

Grieving is real.

Grief is a struggle. Everyday.

And to do that in silent,

because its more "comfortable"

is ridiculous.

To the griever that is reading this,

It's okay to talk about your baby.

It's okay to talk about your mother.

Your father.

Your brother that passed away.

Talking will get it up.

Talking will get the GRIEF up.

Talking it out will promote healthy emotions.

Please know,

You're not alone.

and I love you.


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