I am a mother who lives without her children here to hold.

I am a mother who grieves her children and will long for them until the day I leave this earth.

1. I can experience grief and joy, pain and love – often at the same time

What I wish people understood is that these facts are true, yet it is also true that I have a great deal of joy and gratitude and love for what is present in my life. The painful and the hard do not negate the good and joyful. The good and joyful do not negate the painful and the hard. I am capable of living both.

2. I am strong, even when I don’t appear to be or want to be

What I wish people understood is that this continued grief does not make me weak, or unhealthy, or emotionally unstable. It makes me strong. It takes courage and strength and immense bravery to love beyond death, to face the waves of grief when they come, and to live open and wholehearted in a world that doesn’t wish to acknowledge death or grief.

I carry the absence of them with me every day. I carry the weight of grief and remembrance with every step I take. I will grieve for them for as long as I love them – for always. I am a warrior mama – full of strength and courage and fierce devotion, even when I’m on my knees in grief and pain.

3. Grief does not scare me

I wish people understood that while our society runs from grief and death and powerful emotion, I do not. I am not afraid of the hugeness and the power of grief and emotion. I have withstood losses that ripped and tore and battered the very heart in my chest and my heart still beats, still loves, and still lives.

Grief is uncomfortable. No one wants to have to face it and be with it. Still, I refuse to run from it in myself or in anyone else. I can handle the life and death and grief that comes from loving so completely.

And I promise, if you are willing to sit with me, you can handle it too. Love always overpowers grief.

4. Happy facades don’t help either of us

I wish people understood that the platitudes and pressure to move on, the silence and the “concern” about my lack of letting go does not help me or them or anyone. You do not have to understand my grief – or even agree with it, but listening, loving, and accepting me wherever I happen to be does help. My putting on a happy face for you may make you feel more comfortable, but it also damages our relationship and hurts me deeply.

I know my grief is uncomfortable and that it has changed me. It’s not easy for you either. But I want you to know and be part of who I am becoming – I can only do that if you let me be all of me, the happy and the sad, the raw and the real.

You can be whoever you are, however you are with me too. I promise to love all of you too. Let’s just be real and honest with each other.

5. Acceptance doesn’t mean forgetting

I wish people understood that my continued grief does not mean I have not accepted the loss of those I love. I know that they are gone. Accepting their loss does not mean that I no longer miss them or long to hold them.

I accept that they are gone AND I accept that I will always miss them.

6. There is nothing for you to fix

I wish people understood that they cannot fix this loss. No words and no actions can fix this loss. It cannot be fixed because there is nothing to be fixed. This grief, this longing is a normal and natural response to the loss of the physical presence of those I deeply love. I am not broken and this does not need to be fixed.

I need love and attention, care and nurturing. I need patience and kindness and affection. But nothing needs fixing.

7. Nothing and no one can replace my children

I wish people understood that even if I fall in love again or have more children it would not take away this grief I have for the ones I have lost. If I did choose to have more children and they lived, I would still long for and miss the ones who died.

My daughters are unique and individual beings who cannot be replaced. However large my family could someday be, it will always be missing them.

8. I only want us to be real with each other.

I wish people understood I only desire them to simply be real with me. Share your discomfort. Ask me what I need instead of trying to guess. Tell me what you need from me. Tell me how you truly are. Talk to me if you are concerned. Let me share with you. Share with me. Let me tell you how I truly am. Let me reassure you of your concerns. Let me do the same with you.

Let’s all just be real and open and honest with each other. Let’s stop hiding behind platitudes and whispered concern. Let’s stop hiding behind “I’m fine’s” and “I’m doing ok” and happy faces. Let’s stop promoting invisibility.

Let’s see each other, exactly as we are. Messy. Imperfect. Uncomfortable.

What I want more than anything? That we give each other the gift of loving each other – exactly as we are, where we are, and who we are. No conditions, no judgments, no hiding.

Raw. Vulnerable. Honest.
Real love.
Real grief.
Real relationships.
Real life.

All of it is beautiful. All of it is love.

Even when it shows up as that uncomfortable thing called grief.

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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.

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