I recently got home from a long weekend away at Faith’s Lodge. I had expected that a weekend away with my husband in a beautiful, peaceful environment would be a fulfilling experience for us, but I didn’t anticipate that it would be as meaningful as it ended up being.
On our drive home, I felt relaxed, calm, and even hopeful. While my grief comes in waves and ebbs and flows like anyone else’s, this feeling was different. I spent most of the drive home thinking about this, trying to put my finger on why I was feeling the way I did.
It wasn’t until later that night that I realized what I was feeling. I was experiencing the absence of bitterness. I’ve been in the angry stages of grief for a few months now, but I don’t think I realized how much this bitter feeling blanketed my every day, smothering me with its heaviness.
Each day, we loss parents are surrounded by people living our dream lives. They have the families we’ve always wanted, with living children. To me, it seems that some of these people don’t even realize how good they have it. They take it all for granted because they’ve never experienced a loss like we have. We are the people that they want to deny the existence of. No one wants to admit that babies die.
At Faith’s Lodge, we were surrounded by couples walking along the same path that my husband and I are. They know the loss and the grief. Sharing our story and our feelings were met with knowing eyes. Being surrounded by people who understand lifted my blanket of bitterness away.
I wish I could bottle this feeling, and save it for the day that (inevitably) the bitterness returns, but I know I can’t. I’ll settle for savoring the feeling as long as it stays around and hope that others like me are able to feel this too, if only for a moment or two.
I know that many of you have probably heard of Faith’s Lodge, but if you haven’t, follow this link to learn more. I am not affiliated with them, but want to share this as a resource in the hope that others will be able to have a meaningful experience there as well.