Setting the Intention to Live Again

That cruel knock on the door was not my first introduction to grief, but it was, by far, the most brutal. My kind, compassionate, and very handsome 24-year-old son, my youngest of four wonderful children, had not come home that night. My mother’s heart was extremely worried.

But that loud knock shook me to my core, and something deep inside of me knew what it was. It was 5:30 AM. My daughter, Vanessa, who followed me downstairs to the door, was the only one home as my husband was out of town on business. I didn’t want to open the door, but I knew I had to face the inevitable truth. A women stood at the door, and a sheriff stood a few feet behind her. She introduced herself as the coroner.

“Is this the home of Eric Cruz?”

Hardly able to respond, I managed a powerless “yes.”

“Eric Cruz has passed away in a car accident.”

Hard to Imagine Living On

It was blunt, it was merciless, and it was bitterly true. I lost any control of my body as I had now lost any ability to control this situation. Gasping and wailing along with Vanessa, and using all my energy to stay standing, the woman gave me and Vanessa, whose very best friend was her brother, a minute to grapple with this news.

And just like that, my grief journey had begun.

There is no set of instructions for grief. And even if there were, no two people will grieve alike. This is a unique and personal journey. All the circumstances of our lives that led us up to this point of losing a loved one are very different, hence, we will grieve differently.

In my case, I spent a year and a half with an excellent grief therapist, participated in two online grief support groups, and read literally hundreds of books on grief, healing, spirituality, near death experiences, and the afterlife. This was what I needed. I organically followed what felt right for me, day by day, one step at a time.

Setting New Intentions

I now spend time with many parents whose children have passed on as a volunteer with the international support organization, Helping Parents Heal. At eight years now since Eric’s accident, I hear these same painful words of deep grief that I had cried during those early days and weeks after losing Eric’s physical presence. “I will never be happy again! My life is over, my reason for living is gone.”

Oh, do I remember that feeling, the brutality of that pain. But I must say that there was one difference in the way I said it. I don’t know exactly why, but for some reason, I did not say that I will never be able to live again or that I will never feel joy again. I was in a deep, dark abyss and could not see any light. But instead, I asked, “How. How will I live again? How will I find joy again.”

Looking back, I see that somewhere deep inside, I had hope. I allowed myself to have an ounce of hope that I might see light again. I realize now that I had an intention to find a way to live with purpose again. But back then, I didn’t know any of this.

Each Person Grieves Uniquely

When grief first makes its unwelcomed appearance in your life and the rug is pulled out from under you, you may find yourself flailing like someone who can’t swim. By the time you gain your footing, you may stand, though shakily. You have no idea what to do next. Some will venture out to connect with others who have lost a loved one. They will see others further along and will ask how they have survived, how they can now stand up tall, how they can smile, how they can live. Others will begin setting the intention to live again.

No one can tell you how to grieve or how to fix the pain. As mentioned, your grief journey is uniquely yours. However, you can listen to others who have been on this road ahead of you and decide what resonates. You can hear my story and hear others’ stories as well, and it is important to do so. These stories will work as a guiding light, but the steps to take on the path are your own.

Hope Will Arrive

I can explain to you how I paint a tree. You must paint your own tree. I cannot paint it for you for then it would not be your own. But when you paint that tree, it will have its own beauty precisely because it doesn’t look like mine.

I can show you the steps to a dance, but I cannot dance it for you. You must do it your way. It will not look the same as mine, but it will be lovely because it will be your own.

I hope you find a way to hold the intention for continuing to live your life with your loved one in spirit right by your side. I hope you know that honoring him or her in this way can bring forth a mutual joy between you both. As impossible as it seems when your loved one leaves the physical realm, there is always room for finding purpose again and for growing your love for them around the grief.

There is always hope.

Check out Dolores’ website: Home | Dolores Cruz

Read more about loss of a child on Open to Hope: Do’s and Don’ts of Self-Care After the Loss of a Child – Open to Hope