Grief is like wearing a new pair of glasses

Grief is like wearing a new pair of glasses that I wear everyday. That’s how I explained it to someone the other day. 

It’s a lens through which I now see all aspects of my life. It’s the experience that I can’t escape and that has become a part of who I am.

I’m often reminded of my glasses when I’m on a date with Paul, as we’re driving to our destination. Our time together inevitably weaves its way into a discussion about Zack, how much we miss him, the impact of his death on our boys and our own lives. We try to change the subject back to work, our dreams and try desperately to have fun on our date night.

During a discussion about “risky play” outdoors and letting our kids have fun alone at the local creek or park, it’s very clear to me that my parenting choices are impacted by my grief. I’m fiercely protective of the boys. The lens through which I make important decisions for my sons is forever tinted because I’ve lost a child.

I wore my grief glasses last week, during a comedy show about parenting. I was laughing out loud until the comedian mentioned her son’s days at SickKids. In that moment, grief hit me again, like a wave. I wasn’t the only one in the room who remembered that I had my grief glasses on, as I saw supportive messages come through my phone.

Planning Father’s Day for Paul makes me acutely aware that while we continue to celebrate, it’s not the same. As I order some family photos as a gift, I’m reminded that now we are four and that our day will include time at the driving range, some homemade gifts and a visit to the cemetery. 
 
There are fleeting moments when my grief might be forgotten, but then in an instant, there is a reminder that it’s there and that he’s gone.