We’ve all heard the saying. Most of us even believe it: Time heals all wounds. This is probably one of the most widely used phrases when trying to comfort someone. But I have to say that I don’t believe it’s true. There are wounds that can’t be healed. I know this because I have exactly that kind of wound.
What I know of time is that it is bittersweet. It can be so cruel. Moments are fleeting. Memories become cloudy. The role of time is to take you further away from the moment that broke your heart. Some might be grateful for this distance, but I am not. Details become less vivid and I don’t want to forget them. I always want to remember how it felt to kiss his cheeks. I want to be able to recall exactly how he felt in my arms. I want to remember how it felt to look down at his perfect face for the first time. I even want to remember the pain. There would be no pain if I didn’t love him. Time puts distance between me and December 22nd, but it doesn’t heal my wounds. As days pass, there are more and more times when the grief isn’t as sharp, but it will never go away completely. Losing my son, was also losing a part of myself.
It is approaching 9 months since I lost my son, and I am still struggling every day. I have anxiety. I have had entire months filled with depression. These are things that I have never dealt with before. Last month, I sat at my kitchen table and asked my husband, “Do you think I’m depressed?” Tears rolled down my cheeks because I already knew the answer. I frequently lacked motivation, and I frequently felt numb. I was less affectionate. The thought of seeking a doctor’s help crossed my mind; but I know my grief is normal and I wanted to try to work on myself first. I started painting. I started this blog. I bake cookies. I eat healthier. I try to be more active. These things have gone hand-in-hand with how I feel.
I am finding healing. There is healing in my art. There is healing in my writing. There is healing in sharing my precious Link with the world. I heal when I choose to honor him. These things do not take away the pain. They do not take away the wound, but it does help me to find joy amongst my pain. I am growing around the cracks in my heart, not filling them in. As I make sure that I live a full life, I am discovering a whole new part of myself that I didn’t know was there. I am choosing to heal; and time is not at all responsible for my choice.