For the last 2.5 years, grief has often been at the center of my world. When Jared died, I had a choice. I could give up and let the grief swallow me or I could fight to survive. Honestly, I didn't feel like I had a choice. I had to survive. I had a little boy who needed his mom. I had a promise to keep. I had to ensure Jared's memory lived on.
People would tell me how strong I was. But I didn't feel strong. I didnt feel tough. I was a wreck. A sobbing mess. No one knows how many times I cried in the car. In the shower. At night after Steven went to bed. How often I prayed for the strength to survive. For hope. For courage.
And then one day I realized I was surving Jared's death. That I was pushing through the grief storm. That I could feel joy again. That I was ready to start living again. That I could open my heart to love again.
In some ways I am a different person than I was the day Jared died. I am not the same woman who started this grief journey. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. I am stronger. I refuse to let fear win. I am more adventurous. I refuse to let grief swallow me. I am trying to live life to the fullest.
And because of my grief journey, I am who I am today. And I hope Jared is looking down with a proud smile on his face. Because he always had faith that I would survive. That I would live again. And I'm doing just that.
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