I've been wondering what grief is supposed to look like. Am I okay if I'm not wearing my pajamas out in public? If my eyes aren't red rimmed does that mean I've gotten over the hurdle? If I'm grocery shopping does that mean my life is getting back to normal?
I totally relate to the words that another mother who lost her child said; "Just because I'm not crying doesn't mean that I'm not sad and just because I'm laughing doesn't mean that I'm happy."
Grief is such a private emotion. Just because I'm able to put one foot in front of another, just because I am able to keep our household
I catch myself in the middle of a conversation, a sentence in a book, a scene in a movie - having a flash back of Jacob in the hospital, or Jacob lying on the couch, or just plain happy Jacob. I imagine that my eyes may glass over. That something in my expression may change. Because at that point I am no longer in the moment. I'm somewhere else entirely. Sometimes it's a good memory, and other times it is a bad one. I wonder if people notice the fear, the pain, the loss within me. Sometimes I feel as though I can't catch my breath, when the realization that he is no longer here hits me anew.
Because most days I feel like someone has literally ripped a piece of my heart out. It's as much a physical pain as it is an emotional one.
But on the outside I guess that I look like I'm doing okay.