I almost named this blog, “The Healing Path” or something along those lines. Grieving mothers often talk about their life after the loss of their child as walking a path. We walk with our grieving sisters. It’s a sad, sad, road.
I imagine this place as a spot for me to talk about healing from the death of my daughter, obviously. But, imagine that any of you stumbling upon this blog are joining me for a moment on this path, whether you’ve lost a child or not.
I wrote about this on the blog I started for my daughter, Cora, a few days ago, but at the two year mark since her death, I for the first time can wrap my mind around the word “healing” to describe living after she died. I so disliked that word, and when people talked to me about “healing.”
I don’t think this is something that one heals from in the slightest. This is something that I survived. It’s something that was akin to a rebirth or a reawakening. I’m not the person I was before. I’m more kind. More patient. Less outgoing and have less patience for the trivial and more patience and time for the big things in life.
The word heal to me infers that this is something I’ll get better to me. That I’ll turn back into the person I was. While writing this, I became curious to read the definition of the word elsewhere. This is what I found:
“v. healed, heal·ing, heals