The weight of my luggage

Grief is not something that you pack away somewhere and take it out when you feel like facing it. It is like an over-packed suitcase that you carry all of the time. It is not a bag you can check, you have to carry on. It bulges and the zipper will barely close. Inside are memories of my beautiful special daughter. Packed right next to the good memories are the terrible images of watching her die, of not being able to save her. It is like the dirty clothes are mixed in with the clean clothes. When life gets busy and stressful the way it has this past six weeks you occasionally have to put the bag down in order to function, you need both your hands free. The problem is when you pick it back up it has gotten heavier. As your body and mind get tired from work and life it is harder to carry that bag. If you are sick the bag is even heavier. The zipper won’t hold the load. It comes unzipped a little bit. When that happens your grief is peeking out for all to see. You try to zip it back up but it won’t close. You sit on the case and try harder. But that zipper will not budge. The only way to close the zipper again is to remove some of the grief. You take the memories out, you feel them, you examine them and you obsess over them. Which ones can I leave behind, which ones don’t need to go on this trip. But the difficulty is that nothing can be left behind, you have to pack it all. On good days your grief is neatly packed away in those suitcase organizers, you know the packing cubes. It all fits in the bag and you can roll it around behind you. Other days it is a hot mess of memories all crumbled up and shoved in the suitcase with no semblance of organization. You carry the bag with both arms because the wheels are broken and the memories trail behind you dragging on the floor collecting dust and dirt. You can barely breathe from the heaviness of that suitcase. Your arms are sore, your back hurts, your chest is tight and you dream of reaching your destination. The place where you can finally unpack your bag. But that place does not exist. You know in your heart that you will always carry this bag. The key is getting better at packing it. I am still learning. I have always been a terrible packer. I always over-pack. I can’t bear to leave anything behind, who knows when I might need it. So for now my luggage fills the overhead bin, under the seat and I have even taken your space with my bag. Be patient with me, make room for my luggage, it carries special cargo. Understand that I don’t have a choice, it goes with me everywhere.

6 Replies to “The weight of my luggage”

  1. Wow. This truly puts it into perspective for us who think we understand your grief but who truly have no idea of the enormity of its burden that you carry around everyday. Thank you for writing these words. Love you Dawn.

  2. Take all the time you need to get the packing right. My hope is that everyone you encounter will be miraculously made aware of your special cargo and extend you love, patience and share their luggage space. Thinking of you, Scott, Henry and Haley always.

  3. Thank you for writing and sharing, I too bring my carry-on bag with me since my husband’s passing almost eleven months ago. Some days its under the seat, some days, its on my lap. Hugs to you.

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