Dear Hannah,
I am writing this letter to you a year out-- you're still in the grips of intense grief, but I am here to tell you that it won't always feel the way it feels right now. You don't sleep well. You don't eat well. Sometimes your appetite is ravaging and sometimes its a chore just to eat at all. Tears don't come when they should-- they come at all the wrong times. Unexpectedly as you watch a movie. While you drive by yourself and in class when something reminds you of your mother. This is normal. Your heart needs to be free to grieve at will, so don't try to squelch it when the tears and sorrow bubbles up to the surface.
Hannah, have grace with those who don't know how to respond. They care a lot. But grief isn't something that is taught in school, the family or in church. People don't know what to do with it any more than you know what to do with it, so remember to embrace the awkward silences and those that want to ask you about it, but simply don't know how. Know that these people are your support system, your lifeblood in helping you to heal and they will become some of your closest friends.
You lack words to describe what you feel and you are unable to describe the emotion that wells up inside, but writing will become therapy for you. Write as much as you need to. It will bring healing, perspective and will connect you closer and closer with the Lord and with friends who will get a glimpse into your heart.
Don't be embarrassed about crying when you told yourself you wouldn't. And don't feel like you should be 'over it' after the cards and phone calls have ceased. Grief isn't on a time frame like that, and you can't force it to be. Talk when you need to, and be silent when you need to. People might tell you how to grieve, or what to expect. Know that your grief may look different than theirs. Grief is not something that can be put in a box.
Hannah, the most important thing that I want to share with you is this: Right now, at times it feels like you're drowning, like you're barely keeping your head above water. School, your job and grieving are all full time jobs and it feels like you can't stay on top of all of them. Grief is scary, terrifying at times. But it will not always feel this way. You've heard a thousand times, it gets easier, and it does. This might not bring you comfort now, but later you will look back and see that it was true. And Hannah, a year later, you are doing really, really well. You still have hard days and hard moments, but your heart is at peace and your spirit at rest. Your grief journey has been used to speak to other people and meet them where they are, helping them through their own grief. That is a priceless gift. You are going to be just fine. So grieve as you need to. You will always remember and love your mother, and you won't probably ever 'get over' her loss. But you can still thrive. You can still live a full life. You can still be joyful. And you are.
Hang in there. You've got the perfect people around you, hand picked by the Father himself.
Love, Hannah in a year.
