When Melanie first ran ahead to heaven my entire being was electrified. Anxiety was at an all time high and any loud noise would startle me and I felt as though I’d literally jump out of my skin.
It’s only been 16 months now, but as time continues to pass by my emotions are no longer like the magnitude of an earthquake, but rather more like the aftershocks.

Yet sudden or unexpected noises still make me react negatively.
Recently as I was cooking my sweet husband approached me from behind. I must have been deep in thought because I didn’t hear him. Even something as a gentle kiss on my neck startled me to the point of jumping, while letting out a bit of cry.
Yes, it’s the small things that shake me now.
Remembering that my daughter died still bubbles just below the surface of everything I think or do. As I close my eyes to sleep each night it’s the last thing I think of. I wonder if that will ever change? On one hand, I look forward to the day I can drift off to sleep peacefully and not have her death be my last thought. Yet, I’m also just as afraid of the day when it happens.
Although some may not equate grief to a catastrophic event, I would beg to differ. Grief feels exactly like an earthquake. It is oftentimes unexpected, and comes with it’s own type of tremors and aftershocks, leaving cracks and gaping holes in our heart.

And just like an earthquake, the effects of grief come in all sizes, and may be different on any given day. Some days it may feel like a 10 on the Richter scale, and other days like a 2.
We just never know when it will hit or how hard it will be.
For those who don’t understand this, I’m happy for you. For those who walk this journey alongside me, my heart is joined with yours.
They say time heals all wounds, but I don’t believe it.
What I do believe is when we walk in faith, God continually heals our broken hearts. I believe a scar begins to develop over the open wound in our heart. As time goes by it may not hurt as much but the scar remains as evidence of what was.
The place in our heart which held all the love, hopes and dreams for our loved one can never be filled by anyone or anything else. No amount of time can change that. Yet I will remain confident in the One who has promised to walk alongside me in the valley of the shadow of death.
When the tremors reoccur and the walls threaten to cave in, I remember that the same One also leads me beside the quiet waters and restores my soul. This is where my hope during loss comes from and I will lean into the only thing I know that will save me from crumbling. His name is Jesus and my hope will remain in Him.

I LOVE the earthquake grief analogy. So spot on to how it feels!! Thanks for writing, Pat! (And for your sweet gift to our diaper fund!!!) As I sit here holding James as he sleeps, I’m reminded through your words just how precious these moments are and how my days with him are not promised. Makes me more patient with my lack of sleep and more able to just be still in this moment. Love you!
@virginialeefortunato thank you for your continued love and support. Sending you much love as you begin this journey of being a boy-mom. Love to you and the Fortunato Four!
Patty your words always Touch my heart❤️
Beautifully said And really makes me understand what someone goes through after death of a loved one❤️
I love you girlfriend
Sending you love hugs and prayers always❤️😘🙏
@patty thank you for your continued love and support. 💜
Dear Pat, your words in the earthquake blog rang so true for me in my grief experiences. As your blog friends posted too, the earthquake analogy is spot on. Thank you for exposing and sharing your thoughts in such an honest and loving way.Blessings, Jean
@pruitt13 thank you! 💜🙏
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