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I spent the better part of last evening packing up Skylar's room for our move this weekend. I had numerous friends and family offer to help me with this task that I have been dreading since the day I put the house on the market. In the end, I decided to do it alone. I wanted time to reflect, to cry, to scream and to talk to her by myself.

I was really, really angry. It came out of nowhere, but suddenly I was just pissed off at everyone and everything. I don’t know exactly what triggered it or when it started but I first noticed it about 4 or 5 weeks ago.

Grief Unspoken

I was pretty once, really I was.

My hair twirled in locks and locks

My smile made all of you so happy

I could laugh and catch your eye

I could glance and get what I wanted

Mourning in America

As I move through the journey of my own grief, I have observed that a culture shift has occurred in what is expected of mourners.

I belong to the local chapter of The Compassionate Friends. At a recent meeting, several people said their grief had gotten softer. Softer is an interesting word choice and one I understand. More than eight years have passed since my elder daughter died, and although my grief has softened, it hasn’t disappeared. Grief will always be part of me.

I’m watching over you from Heaven

I’ll be your strength when you are weak

I’ll be the rock that you may lean on

When your tears fall upon your cheek

Please know that I am proud of you

For trying hard to carry on

I know without me there its hard

But know my spirit is not gone

I see the way you honor my life

It never dawned on me that you'd be gone.

I never thought I'd see the day that you're not around.

I never imagined I could go on without you.

And yet, here I am,