Comparing your grief: don't you dare

“Oh, my grief is nothing like yours. I can’t imagine what you’re going through."

I written about it before and I’ll write about it again. Don’t you dare diminish your grief. Don’t you dare compare it to mine and find yours lacking. Don’t you dare.

Yes, losing my husband was a gut punch. It sucks. But so does your grief. It sucks, too. Just as badly. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know.

A loss is a loss and every loss deserves to be grieved for the importance it has in your life. Death of a human or a pet. Divorce and breakups. The loss of a job that alters your lifestyle. The deteriorating health of someone you love that makes your relationship different, your life different, their life different.

These — and so many more life situations — deserve to be grieved, acknowledged and not compared. 

Please stop saying I’m inspirational, strong or motivating. I’m no one special. I’m unique because I’m me but I’m not a role model for moving forward. Trust me.

When My Favourite Husband (MFH) died, I was a thousand — hell, a million — broken pieces. Ask my family and friends. Ask my grief counsellor. I knew nothing about how I was going to move forward. Nothing. But I did know a couple things. I knew I was going to acknowledge MFH’s death and figure out how to create a new life. I was not going to sweep it under the rug. I was going to feel every feeling even if it repeatedly buckled my knees. And I did. And it fucking wrecked me. But I also knew I was going to get up and put in the work it would take to make friends with my grief. To live with it. To find peace with it. I was going to be grateful that I had the gift of the years I had and the memories I made. And I am.

You think I’m strong? I still get tears. I still shake when I have to go into a hospital. He died in a hospital.  I’m 59 years old; the same age as MFH when he died. You think that doesn’t make me grit my teeth? The first time I went to the cemetery after he died, I left a mess. And I wanted to die, too, because it hurt so badly. 

I didn’t because, quite simply, I’m a fighter. But that doesn’t make me strong, brave or inspirational. It just means my light is stronger than my dark. 

I’m merely a woman. Unique in my own way but not an example of how to model your life. I’m who I am because I’m finding my own way forward with my own grief. My grief.

I believe in everyone’s ability to do that for themselves. Acknowledge your grief for what it is. If you love, you grieve. If you acknowledge your love is unique, acknowledge your grief is, too. And once you do, dig deep and find inspiration in yourself. In who YOU are. 

You can and you will find your way.

I believe in you.