Why Do You Keep Mourning All the Time?

My husband left earth for heaven while I shopped and laughed with his mom. I was blissfully unaware that Aaron had died.

Is it easier to know death is coming or is it easier for death to be unexpected? I have no idea.

What I do know is, there is a permanent hole left in my heart as I ache in his absence.

Aaron took his last breath 13 years ago and longing for heaven is the undercurrent of my life.

Like many who face loss and grapple for healing, I have been vulnerably transparent in person and online.

I tell people their worst fears may become reality.

I share what it's like to touch a cold, dead body in a casket.

I open up about hurting my kids with one life-changing sentence.

It is a soothing balm to me, but my focus is typically on others who are grieving. I want others to feel validated and some measure of comfort because death's aftermath is beyond brutal.

When I poured out my heart on social media this month, sharing that grief is the cost of love, I was asked, "What's the purpose for mourning his death all the time?"

Ouch. A punch to the gut, I felt deflated, shocked, and bruised.

This person went on to comment, "My only concern is the constant ‘reliving’ and retelling of his horrendous death and the ongoing impact not only on you but everyone that cared for him. The Facebook reader has to feel this every time you post it. I’ll try to understand that if this helps you grieve after all these years and moving on with your life, then so be it."

I inwardly cried, "But you don't know how my hand felt in his. You don't understand the butterflies I felt every time he walked in the door. You can't know the depth of our love. We made a family together, we were destined for each other."

I have no future with this amazing man, and I am told to muzzle my feelings.

May we never "get over" the loved one we've kissed goodbye. May we have both freedom and permission to share (or over-share) our depth of pain. May we avoid the superficial and plunge to the dark places so that we can experience another stitch in our broken hearts.

Friend, tell your story, then tell it again.