How I Live With The Grief and Losses I’ll Never Fully Heal From

Time may heal wounds — but it doesn’t repair the scars we live with.

Brian Brewington

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Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

There aren’t words to appropriately comfort someone who has just lost a significant loved one. We try, we fumble, we repeat the cliche’s we’ve all heard in such scenarios — but it doesn’t help. It’s merely a nicety we offer up, out of not knowing what else to do or say.

There is no one way to grieve, nor is there an exact appropriate way fpor anyone person. In fact, if there’s few things in life we’re all entitled to, it’s to grieve the death of those closest to us in our own particular, chosen way. So long as it’s not actively hurting others, nobody has a right to tell us the right way to deal with such monumental type losses we’re all bound to experience in our lives at some point or another.

Time helps, it just doesn’t absolve. It has a way of helping us remember the good about those we’ve lost, the laughs, the good times, the best memories we shared with them, as well as the best parts about them — which ironically in turn still hurts, because eventually we realize that good is gone forever except in our minds and maybe a collection of pictures we’re lucky enough to have with them them or of them.

I’ve lost friends who weren’t even eighteen to horrific tragedies I don’t need to recount for the umpteenth time on this platform. I’ve lost some pf my best friends in their 20's and 30's to overdoses, murder, suicide, and everything between. My father has lost two siblings who took their own lives. Meaning, I’ve lost an Aunt and Uncle to the same. I’m npt comparing the loss of an aunt or uncle to that of a sibling, for I’m aware it’s not quite the same level of loss. However, having to watch my Father and the rest pf his siblings bear those losses hurt almost as much as those losses themselves.

To tell you the truth, what has helped me deal with each and every person I’ve lost far before their time, was having experienced it previously. The first was the hardest because I was still a kid myself, and the death itself was of an eighteen year old mother who I considered one of my best friends, as she went to save her infant daughter from an oncoming out of control vehicle driven by an non-permitted, underage…

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Brian Brewington

Writing About the Human Condition, via My Thoughts, Observations, Experiences, and Opinions — Founder of Journal of Journeys and BRB INC ©