The statement is absolutely true. The depth of your love is shown by the depth of your grief. I didn't want to bathe, brush my teeth, or do anything normal I did before that day. I wore black every day for a year, wearing death like a garment wishing it was me absent and not him. Why? Why? Why?
Boisterous confidence was the nature of who Rose Greer was before my experience. After the loss of my son I had to face the reality I’m not perfect. The pretense was over. I was a portrait of a mess. GOD HAD REMOVED MY COVERING. I thought I would walk in the favor of the Most High until I took my last breath. Things like this don't happen to me and my family. We are immune from these sorts of devastations, so I thought. I realized I possessed a false sense of security and knowing. I had lost my son, my marriage on life support, almost lost my business, almost bankrupt and my other kids were trying to manage their grief while looking at their super hero example of a mom reduced to broken pieces.
I was alone, abandoned even by God and no one could comfort my dying soul. Reliving my sons last moments every time my loss was mentioned became my reoccurring trauma. Nothing prepared me for this. I realized the only way past the grief was through it and that’s what pushed me to the pen.
The statement is absolutely true. The depth of your love is shown by the depth of your grief. I didn't want to bathe, brush my teeth, or do anything normal I did before that day. I wore black every day for a year, wearing death like a garment wishing it was me absent and not him. Why? Why? Why?
Boisterous confidence was the nature of who Rose Greer was before my experience. After the loss of my son I had to face the reality I’m not perfect. The pretense was over. I was a portrait of a mess. GOD HAD REMOVED MY COVERING. I thought I would walk in the favor of the Most High until I took my last breath. Things like this don't happen to me and my family. We are immune from these sorts of devastations, so I thought. I realized I possessed a false sense of security and knowing. I had lost my son, my marriage on life support, almost lost my business, almost bankrupt and my other kids were trying to manage their grief while looking at their super hero example of a mom reduced to broken pieces.
I was alone, abandoned even by God and no one could comfort my dying soul. Reliving my sons last moments every time my loss was mentioned became my reoccurring trauma. Nothing prepared me for this. I realized the only way past the grief was through it and that’s what pushed me to the pen.