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Countless well-meaning friends have shared the TED Talk by Nora McInerny, the author and founder of the Hot Young Widows Club, with me. If you’re unfamiliar with this club, consider yourself fortunate. Despite its catchy name, it’s a group no one wishes to join. The price of admission isn’t about youth or beauty; it’s about enduring a life-altering, devastating loss. Nora emphasizes a crucial point in her talk: we don’t really move on from our grief; we move forward with it.
“A grieving individual will laugh and smile again,” she explains. “They will progress in life, but that doesn’t imply they’ve left their grief behind.”
This concept seemed straightforward. I’ve been a widow for 1,138 days and have been grappling with grief even longer, dating back to the moments when doctors informed me that my young husband had only weeks to live. I thought I understood the essence of moving forward with grief.
Up until a few days ago, I would have confidently said I was making progress. Over the past three years, I purchased a new home, embarked on two new careers, and even ventured into the dating scene. I allowed myself to experience joy and sadness on significant dates, openly spoke my husband’s name, and recalled our shared memories. I was following Nora’s advice: moving forward while carrying my grief.
But in truth, I wasn’t truly moving forward. As I observed friends advancing in their lives, I felt increasingly stagnant.
This past weekend, the man I’m dating (for simplicity, let’s call him my boyfriend, even if that title feels strange) invited me to join him and his son for a hike with my kids. I quickly accepted for two reasons: first, I wanted to get my kids away from their screens for a few hours, and second, I was dealing with the remnants of a particularly intense wave of grief. I thought the fresh air could provide some relief.
I envisioned a casual hike along a familiar trail, which is why I mistakenly chose platform sneakers. However, within minutes, my boyfriend took a sharp turn into the woods, leading us uphill. Not realizing what lay ahead, my kids and I followed him.
Before long, we were navigating rocky streams, climbing over boulders with the aid of tree branches, and squeezing through narrow spaces. I was unsteady on my feet and unsure of our destination. Eventually, we found ourselves at the top of a waterfall, gazing down at those who had stuck to the well-worn path—the path I used to take.
In that moment, amid the whirlwind of grief, a scraped knee from a sharp branch, and the dizzying height, the phrase “moving forward with grief” resonated with me in an entirely new way. I recognized that while I had mastered the “with grief” part, I misunderstood what “moving forward” truly meant.
I previously equated moving forward with action. I had made tangible changes: a new house, new jobs, and dating. But as I reflected on it, I realized that my steps hadn’t genuinely taken me forward. I had simply moved down the street to a new house within the same neighborhood. My running route hadn’t even changed.
My new careers were just hobbies I had pursued before becoming a widow, and while dating was a new experience, I often shied away from anything that challenged my pre-loss life.
My truth was that my so-called progress was superficial. Instead of genuinely moving forward, I was merely sidestepping within my comfort zone, in a life still shadowed by my husband’s absence. My grief had grown larger than the life I had known, and I realized I no longer fit into that mold.
It wasn’t until I veered off course and ventured into the unknown that I understood “moving forward” encompasses more than merely living and laughing again after loss. Yes, learning to laugh is an essential first step, but from that vantage point atop the waterfall, I recognized that moving forward also requires acknowledging the changes in my life post-loss and mourning the loss of what no longer fits. It involves leaving behind the past and wholeheartedly embracing what lies ahead, even if it means taking unexpected turns—even in inappropriate footwear.
If you’re interested in more insights on navigating grief, check out this related post. Additionally, if you’re considering starting a family, resources like March of Dimes can be invaluable for understanding fertility treatments.
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In summary, I have learned that moving forward with grief is not about constant action but about embracing change and recognizing how my journey has altered. It involves finding strength in vulnerability and accepting that the path ahead will be different than what I once envisioned.
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