𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲 💙
I don't think either of us knew what we might be in for when we met on a dance floor 18 years ago. Something we did know soon after meeting though, was that whatever it was, we wanted to face and share in it together.
And we have.
Yet it hasn't all been belly laughs (often at my expense🙄), or casual Sunday strolls.
Doing life together means we have shared in the incredible, the devastating, and 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 in between.
And, there was a moment in time when it felt as if we had ceased to share in it.
After suffering the loss of two babies in utero, we grieved... differently.
Initially, in the rawest moments of our grief we were incredibly close.
Yet, as the days turned into weeks, I watched as he 'appeared' to carry on as if nothing had changed, and he watched as I cried myself to sleep every night as if everything had changed.
I willed his eyes to leak like mine, and I have no doubt he wished mine would dry.
One night, as I was crying, he turned over and asked me how long I was going to do this for.
Hurt, I asked him when he would start, questioning if he even thought about our little girl anymore.
He softened. '𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘈𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦. 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰, 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘢𝘥. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰.'
There it was.
Unknowingly I had 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 that because he wasn't appearing outwardly impacted in the 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 way I was, he wasn't grieving. I somehow believed that if we were to share our grief, it needed to look the same.
And more than this, we learnt it didn't have to, to be shared.
We could still share in our grief, even though we each had our own unique ways of expressing and walking with it.
We will 𝙖𝙡𝙡 grieve differently, and our partners are no exception 💙
In '𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜' I write,
'𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢.' ☔️
📷 Sharon Thompson ...