I am continually surprised at just when and how the effects of grief and loss suddenly pop up and knock me off my feet, even after so many years of living with it.

A simple rear-ending. Someone got distracted and hit me from behind. Well, my third hit from behind in 2 years, but still, not really a big deal. An annoyance. A hassle. An inconvenience.

Except my anxiety kicked into high gear for days afterwards. I jolted awake in the middle of the night in a panic for a week following this, relatively speaking, non-eventful event. A terrible feeling of unexplained fear lingers for days.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t simply move on with life and be done with it.

So, I thought, maybe there’s something here I need to learn from. What is this? What’s going on here? What can I learn from all these annoying rear-endings?

I started thinking about all the times I rush through life and don’t see what’s in front of me.

I started thinking about this feeling I often have. This feeling of pressure, this desperate sense that I need to hurry, to rush, and to go faster.

“You have to do it all. You have to do it all NOW.” It runs like a record on repeat in my head.

And than it came. That little whisper of fear underneath all of it.

“You have to do it all now….before it all gets taken away again.”

Before it all gets taken away again.

Like my fiancé’s death took him away. Like the stillbirth of our daughter so soon after his death took her away. Like the miscarriage of my second daughter took her away too.

Do it all before life is taken away again.

As Still Mothers, we know all too well that life is unpredictable. We know all too well that life as we know it can end in a moment. We know death and loss and desolation. We know we are not invincible and that life can be so very, very brief.

That sudden, unexpected hit from behind brought it all back up again for me.

The fear of losing it all without warning.
The fear of life being ripped away in a moment.
That terrible sense of not enough time.

And it’s true. Life can end in a moment. The unimaginable happens. The unthinkable is possible.

I am living proof.

It is amazing to me how the effects of living through the unimaginable and the unthinkable continue to appear so many years after the fact. It’s startling how that fear of loss can simmer under the surface for so long.

I don’t want to live in fear.

If life as I know it ends, if everything gets taken away again, I want to know that I’ve lived the life I have fully, completely, and wholeheartedly. I want to know that I’ve given this life, however long it lasts, everything I have.

I want to be here for it, not living in the future fear that it might all going away.

I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know what unimaginable or unthinkable events might some day happen to me.

I do know that I have amazing love and beauty right here in this life of mine now. I want to be present for that as long as I have it.

I don’t know what life will hold in the future or even in the very next moment. I don’t know what else might be taken away.

I just want, as they say, to be here now.

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Emily Long

Emily Long is the mother of two much-loved daughters, both gone-too-soon. Several months after the death of her fiancé, their daughter Grace was born still. For many years, Emily lived with this loss in silence and isolation. It wasn’t until she experienced the death of her second daughter, Lily, that she finally sought support and created a community of people who helped her find the beauty and joy in life again. Through her own healing process, Emily became an advocate for all families grieving the loss of their children. Emily is a grief counselor in private practice and the author of the upcoming book, “Invisible Mothers.”

Emily works hard to increase education and improve care for bereaved mothers with medical professionals and other counselors. She also works with clients individually to provide support for grieving mothers and fathers. She writes and educates through her website, Emily Long: Archaeologist of the Living.

Latest posts by Emily Long (see all)

• I Should Know Them Now - May 29, 2017
• Stolen Memories - March 8, 2017
• Receiving Support - October 14, 2016