The most heartbreaking moments of our lives happen when nobody is watching. 

Nobody sees us, then. 

These moments are parts of the larger heartbreak. 

The whispers of the loud pain. 

The experiences we have because of a bigger tragedy. 

I want to take you to one of mine. 

So then you can take others inside one of yours. 

It took place the first few weeks after my husband died. 

Late at night just as I was putting my girls to bed.

One of my daughters would ask me to go and get her dad, otherwise she refused to sleep. 

She kept saying I want my daddy, I want my daddy. 

Go get him. Bring him back. 

And of course I couldn’t get him back. 

A six year old finds it hard to understand how permanent death is. 

So she would fall asleep with a framed picture of him in her arms. 

Slowly I would remove it from her embrace so the glass would not break in the middle of the night. 

Somehow the loss of her dad was harder on her just before she would go to bed, when there was no more playing. 

No more life to live for the day. 

Just sleep waiting for her. 

That is when I would see her grief. 

And it was grief without tears. The worst kind. 

The torturing kind of grief. When you can’t cry. 

When grief feels like nails. Nails that can’t come out. 

These moments for her were hard. 

But she doesn’t remember them unless I tell her about them. 

The agony of that moment has always stayed with me. 

Not being able to give her back her dad was so deeply heartbreaking. 

But I have just opened the door to that moment in my life and let you in. 

I am no longer alone in that moment. 

I gave that Christina thousands of friends helping her remove that picture frame from her daughter’s arms.

You see that moment is not in the past. 

It is happening outside of time and space. 

I know you too have many of your own invisible and heartbreaking moments.

When nobody was there to hold your hand. 

I hope you do share them with someone in your life. 

You see, pain that is not seen can never be healed. 

Don’t let time stop you from sharing it. 

It is never too late.  (Click to tweet!)

With shared heartbreak,

Christina

PS. New coffee episode drops this Saturday. Listen here: http://www.dearlifepodcast.com/coffee

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Christina

Christina

Christina Rasmussen is an author, speaker and social entrepreneur who believes that grief is an evolutionary experience required for launching a life of adventure and creative accomplishment.

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2 Comments

  • Gloria McKenzie says:

    For me it is when I’m doing something, and there is no one to share it with in the moment, no one who will take time just for me. Hearing about a book I enjoy, or, for example, Caring about my new milkweeds and raising monarchs. Oh, I can post pictures and say how many caterpillars I have today, and I have friends and family who will listen, for a moment. He would have walked outside and looked with me, watched the monarchs with me, been happy with me about a new chrysalis. WITH me, not just listening for a few minutes and gone on with his life. I miss having a someone just for me.

  • Kerry Kelly says:

    My young daughter died of cancer 30 years ago, her brother died 5 years ago. With no children nor grandchildren it’s sometimes hard to smile at others joy of their growing family. I cope pretty well for the most part but once in a while a zinger comes along. I was exiting WalMart the other day and the greeter wished me a Happy Grandparents Day. It stung. I said, “No, not me”. And she said, “How old are your children?” To strangers I usually respond I don’t have any children and leave it at that. Today, for some reason I replied “They’re adults”. She said, “Have faith, it’ll happen!”. As I walked out the door of WalMart my anger and hurt stung my eyes and I cried while sitting in my car. I still wonder…”Why me?”

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