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He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother...

Grief is different for everyone, but here is a glimpse into mine:

Grief looked like not sleeping for more than two hours a night, while recovering from a major surgery. No matter how tired I was, sleep did not come. Even with the help of sleep aid, meditation, and limited stretching it did not come. Grief looked like not crying for the first two weeks, and then having an absolute breakdown, on my own time, in private.

Grief has been anger, and hopelessness. It was worry and concern for those still here. It was hardening my heart and losing myself in mindless activities to get past the pain. Grief was my sweet children hugging me, telling me they loved me and lots of snuggling. I tried so hard to not let it affect them. But grief doesn't discriminate, no matter how hard we try to make it biased. Grief was being sick and my body physically responded to my stress in a poor way. Grief was cutting off all my hair, because it looked too much like his, every time I went to brush it.


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