Grief on the Beach

I know that I have written before about losing Aunt Lisa, but if you know anything  about losing someone to death, missing them usually comes in wavelengths. Sometimes you can hardly move because the feeling of grief encompasses your whole body. Sometimes you cry until you can't cry anymore. Sometimes you can cover up the feeling because it barely hits you. The most undeniable characteristic of grief, for me, is that the smallest, weirdest, unexpected things cause it to hit you. 

Growing up, I learned to love the beach. She taught me. She shared with me her love of the white sand and salt water. We leaned to love the beach together. Since we shared that unconditional love for the "pretty, clear" water, I have never been to the beach without her. At least not that I can remember. Not only are we the only ones in the family who truly love the beach, we are most certainly the only ones who will lay out there all day long trying to "tan." I have definitely never laid out without her.

Upon deciding to go to Panama City Beach for spring break, considering that fact, I knew it would be tough for me. Someone wise once told me that the first year is always the hardest after losing someone because you experience your first everything without them (vacation, birthday, etc). Again, I kept this fact in mind when coming to Panama. 

I knew that undoubtedly at some point, the feeling of grief would hit me. I was correct. Yesterday, sitting on the beach, laid out on my towel listening to music, like we done together countless times, it hit me. The feeling of anger, of regret, of loneliness, of ultimate sadness, it was there. 

I miss you every single day, some days more than others. This week has been one of those "more than others." Grief is hard because while I experience sadness, I know that you would want me to be happy and to enjoy my time here at Panama City since it was one of "our" dream destinations. 

I think of you in Heaven and I know that you have a spot looking out on the shores with your feet in the sand. Enjoy the sunset, too. It's beautiful. 

Miss you, LDE. 💙