I'm still struggling mightily with acute grief. One of the books I was skimming through - I don't have the capacity for concentration for very long these days - says that the acute grief stage for most people dealing with most losses lasts from six to eight weeks. But you can pitch that figure out the window when it comes to the death of a child. The book features interviews with parents who have been through the devastating loss of a child, and the consensus seems to be that the acute grief stage lasts for months, perhaps up to six. After the acute grief stage comes the long process of mourning.
As much as I want this debilitating pain to end, it's comforting to know that at least I'm normal.
The most surprising thing I have discovered about grief, at least the grief that I am experiencing right now, is how intensely physical it is. My bones ache. My muscles are sore. My chest hurts. It's hard to breathe. I sigh a lot. Sometimes I even get sick to my stomach. Simple tasks are difficult and my mind is frequently scattered. I'm running a marathon with cement blocks strapped to my feet and a lead blanket over my shoulders.
I'm not trying to be a downer here. I'm just trying to be honest. Washington Irving said, "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief... and unspeakable love." That is why I share in this space, my long-neglected farm blog.
Max's girlfriend Chelsey (whom I consider as my newly "adopted" daughter) uploaded a video she made to YouTube. It's less than 8 minutes long. Please watch it. I think you will like this lovely little love story.