In our world, it takes 9 months gestation time for the birth of another human being. In the beginning, we see that 9 months as an eternity and we wonder how we’ll ever make it through to the end. We mark off each day in the countdown till that new baby arrives. We can’t wait for that day to come.
A new baby arriving isn’t the only manner in which something is born though. New ideas are born, new relationships, new lifestyles, etc. When we think of something being born we usually associate it with something happy and joyful. But, sometimes the thing that’s being birthed isn’t something we welcome and celebrate. Sometimes the thing that’s being birthed is the acceptance of something full of sadness.
A few weeks ago was 9 months since Kenny died. Those 9 months creeped by excruciatingly slow, but also in the blink of an eye. It’s weird how times does that. It’s like how when you have a car accident–it happens fast and in slow motion, all at the same time.
In the beginning, I had no idea how I’d make it through each minute of each day. Each second was a chore to try and survive without him here. As the days and weeks went by it didn’t seem to get any easier. I bounced all over the stages of grief, yo-yoing between them with no rhyme or reason. The stage of acceptance seemed so far off in the distance I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it. It didn’t seem attainable to me, not ever.
There were moments in a lot of those days that I forgot he was dead. I might see something funny on Instagram and say to myself, I should send this to Kenny–he’ll think it’s funny. Or, I would wake up in the middle of the night or in the morning and expect to hear him breathing or see him lying next to me in the bed. But, he was never there–not anymore.
Every single one of those days of that nine months I wished I could will him back to life. It’s not like I didn’t try because I did. I have many talents but resurrecting the dead isn’t one of them. Our 4 year old grandson even had the same idea. He told me on several occasions “I wish I could set a trap for Papa so he could come down from Heaven in the clouds”. He misses Kenny so very much and he’s still struggling with his absence. He doesn’t full understand why Kenny can’t just come back down here because we want him to. Emory’s acceptance of Kenny’s death will take longer to birth than mine has. My heart breaks for him.
Coming to the acceptance stage of grief is an accomplishment, if you want to call it that. It doesn’t feel celebratory in any way-it just means that you’ve come to terms with your loved ones death. You accept the fact that they are never coming back and this is what your life looks like now. Instead of walking through each day with them physically by your side there’s just an empty space they used to occupy. That empty space is called acceptance and you quietly agree for it to take your loved one’s place in your life. Just because I’ve reached this so-called final stage of grief doesn’t mean I’m no longer grieving Kenny’s death. I’ll always grieve for him. It just means that I can finally accept the fact that he’s gone and isn’t ever coming back.