Perspectives of The Pompe World

Sometimes my grief takes up only a moment of a day.

Other times it’s a thief of the entire day.

Sometimes I can sit with it calmly, and sometimes I wrestle it with everything I can muster.

Many times it just sits lazily at my shoulders, or quietly down my cheek.

It can be taunting and nagging.

Or subtle and achy.

On a bad day it is the puppet master and on a good day I leave it behind with the last few drops in my coffee cup.

Quite rarely do I find myself pulling it in for an embrace, but I have lately.

I have found myself imagining someone else’s grief and that made me grateful for my own. It’s one of the few times I can recall the phrase “it could be worse” not feeling like a dismissal.

The relationship with grief is ever -evolving and inconsistent. I don’t believe it’s quantifiable or measurable, but I do know it’s valid. It doesn’t have to make sense to others or be felt by others. You don’t need permission to experience it or instructions for how to experience it.

It is yours.

Actual, anticipatory, delayed, chronic, cumulative, or whatever other type it may be, it’s valid and it’s yours to walk with. To some, yours may seem like a walk in the park and for others, yours may seem like the end of all worlds. Both can be true at the exact same.

Be compassionate, be humble, and be reminded that no matter who you are, it really could always be “worse.” And hopefully that reminder will feel more like warm light and less like a slammed door.