Dear likers and lovers,

I have no poignant words today. Or on most days. But what I will do is shamelessly hit ♥️ on all your posts/tweets/pinterest /whatever. I will always try to reach out and put myself out there if I care about having you in my life, even if I do it in my own super weird way. Like, borderline flood you with texts after I’ve been on my own introverted/mom life hiatus. And I’m NOT sorry.

Share your good news! Your cute kids! Your bikini body! Your bff selfies and vacation pics! And FAR more importantly, the simple things. The book you read. The KNOWLEDGE and perspective you might have. Yes, even your wordle score or a favorite memory. If I don’t have it, I have chosen to take joy in your slice of heaven as I make my own cake by ocean. I will simply get it for myself, if not, learn to live without it.

One of my closest friends died about 15 years ago to this day in a horrific car accident. All it takes is one moment, y’all. Its what I’ve learned. What I keep learning.

As physicians, we are surrounded by death more than most. I wish this wasn’t my first rodeo with grief. Unfortunately, suicide amongst my colleagues/friends and miscarriages are common in our world. And I’m not even talking about the 17 year old boy who’s goal was to walk at his high school graduation but laid in bed pumped full of pain meds instead💔 So here we are.

What I’ve learned:

1)Everyone grieves differently. Some turn to morbid curiosity. Others, philosophizing and prayers. Many, bad jokes and outright denial. Try not to judge their process. Try not to tone police or deny them.

2)At the same time, protect your peace. Do what you have to. Take comfort in those who truly love you and want to be there for you. Ignore the nosy/weird ones who are trying to justify why your worst scenario would never happen to THEM. They are LYING to themselves because they’re mentally too weak to accept how little control we have on this magnetic rock called earth orbiting the sun.

3) There can be great beauty after great loss still.

My daughter is proof. She is her namesake. She is the sun. It’s her world, actually. She just gave us permission to live on it-for now.

4) You are not alone drowning in an ocean of tears-you are together with others in that grief and getting refined. When the tears dry there WILL be something to float on-even if its just hundreds holding hands collectively clinging on to each other. Hope floats. So does love. So hold on for that magical day. You’ll know when you arrive at the place the rays of the sun blend into the horizon.

5)Let the (more/most) grieving party set the terms. Just reach out and let them you’re always there. And then be there when they need. Don’t push them before they’re ready. Its my humble opinion to email or text them instead of risking waking them. If they’re sleeping a lot, it’s actually a brief time they might be able to escape their grief. Let them. A few weeks in, if you can, just show up. Bring groceries and flowers. Or both. Let them cry.

If you do those things and they don’t want you around? It hurts, but respect their space. You might be too close to the sun suddenly missing from their life. They may not be ready to replace that sun, now or ever. Be there when and if they are. Until then, make your own light.

6)Don’t try to find the right fucking words. Just don’t. You might end up hurting them more. There is no ’bright side’/‘God’s plan’ any of us know about with any certainty. NONE. OF. US have the authority to speak for God. When the loss is great enough, there aren’t enough words to make up for the void now in their life. So be considerate. Choose your words carefully.

7) There is no timeline for when people will be ’over it’. A mom who miscarried will remember her daughter’s birthday Every. Day.For.The.Rest.Of.Her.Life. So will Dad. Let them talk about it at what should be their child’s graduation. Expressing a bittersweet memory doesn’t take away from joy. It’s just ALL a part of this beautiful, messy life.

8) Keep your superstitions out of your conversations with grieving folks. Admit it, you don’t know any more about ’what happens’ then any of us. We’re all just giving it our best guess.

9) It’s okay not to be okay.

15 years later, I still can’t stand to see photos of women who are obviously very close/’besties’ together. The thought that I may never have that again shatters me.

I will also continue to beat myself up for the rest of my life because I didn’t realize what a wonderful friend I had in her well into adulthood. Maybe I should give myself grace. Maybe I should simultaneously beat myself so that I don’t ever forget that hard earned lesson towards ANYONE I love. Life is short.

10) At the same time, if they don’t want to talk about it, then that’s that. Follow their lead.

11)Grieving isn’t reserved just for death. It can be for loss of the person you thought you knew/loved too. I think so many of us in the western hemisphere can relate after 2016.

If we’re all alone in the end, we’re together in that too. It helps, sometimes anyway.

If you’re still here, dear reader, here is my promise to you.

I will protect my peace. But I’ll ALWAYS be cheering for you. I don’t have to know you, be you, vote or love like you to do that.

I will always overuse my LOVE emoji, even if you are a stranger. There is no half assing the beauty in your life for me.

I will care about your wordle score.

Just please don’t give me that farmhouse thing (is that still happening?)

Together perfectly imperfectly in love and grief,

Me (Us)