Grief Graffiti

On the surface, we can look like we’re doing fine.

We look pleasant and unbothered. We smile and say we’re doing fine. We laugh. We’re polite. We dot our i’s and cross our t’s.

We post pictures of our happy lives and we list out all of our accomplishments and wins.

On the surface, we all look like we’re doing fine.

Which makes it easy to compare. It makes it easy to ignore each other, be short with each other and cut each other off. It makes it easy to judge and even easier to withhold grace.

But the truth is, if we could look under the surface, I think we’d see that for the most part we’re probably not as fine as we appear. We’re doing our best. We’re trying to put on a brave face. We’re trying to be sunshine, but deep down some storms are brewing.

We’re stressed. We’re exhausted. We’re burned out. We’re being hit by waves of grief and so many of us are just going through the motions trying to get through. People are fighting a million battles behind closed doors that we will never know about, but the truth is, if we could peak in, it would probably break our hearts.

We can’t always fix everything for each other. We don’t have magic wands we can just wave around and make problems magically disappear, but we can be better to each other. We can be more understanding and more considerate.

We can definitely be more patient.

We can ask more questions. We can connect a little better. We can look each other in the eyes. We can carry each other.

We don’t have to excuse bad behavior and we don’t have to be best friends with everyone, but we do have to love each other.

So, the next time, you’re tempted to put somebody down, pass somebody up or start gossiping about a situation you really don’t know that much about, please try to remember that on the surface we all look like we’re doing fine, but underneath, there’s a much different story going on.

We’re all messy. We’re all struggling in one way or another. We’re all insecure and unsure and weary. We’re all so, so weary.

So we have to take care of each other. We’re all we have.

“Who is a grieving mother? Does she look different from one who is not?

Is her pain visible in the smile she sometimes forces…

behind the eyes on the verge of tears?

Can you see the aging her body feels from the trauma of loss?

She’s one who still pictures herself from before the loss

and is sometimes caught off guard at the reflection looking back from the mirror.

Who is a grieving mother?

She’s one who ignores a baby shower or birthday invitation one day

because the pain is still too raw.

And the next, celebrates the small milestones, for she knows how precious they are.

She’s one who boxes up a lifetime of mementos in an afternoon

to spare her family the pain.

Yet years later still can’t dredge up the courage to go through them again.

Who is a grieving mother?

She’s one who holds it together in the big things and falls apart over spilled milk.

Who loves deeply those closest to her, but keeps her heart guarded for protection from others.

She’s one who grimaces at the first laughs after loss but later laughs louder than most.

Who finds joy in simple things and relishes everyday moments.

Who is a grieving mother?

She’s one held hostage by dates on the calendar and unexpected triggers.

And one who will always pause for sunsets, butterflies, and sweet signs from above.

She’s one who lets go of friends unable to support her.

And one who treasures those who didn’t walk away.

Who is a grieving mother?

She’s one who can experience an array of emotions on any given day.

And one who wishes tears would come when numbness covers her.

She’s one who screams at God one moment and clings to him the next.

Who didn’t expect her faith to grow so much

from the most critical unanswered prayer she ever spoke.

Who is a grieving mother?

She is one as complicated as the grief she carries.”

~Heather Blair