By Amanda Reid 
Grief is really hard.
You can have days of feeling absolutely fine, then suddenly, it’s the middle of the day or it’s time for bed, and something just stops you in your tracks, like tonight.
Oddly enough, it was a stuffed animal for me tonight. Max from The Secret Life of Pets. He was part of a phase my son went through. Of course, whatever my kids loved, Gigi had to get for them.
Giving was definitely her love language.
In a way, I know it’s a comfort to be surrounded by so many things she bought or personalized, but it doesn’t stop the pain of missing what really matters—her.
Her sweet, soft voice that always brought comfort. Chatting with her. Telling her something funny or cute the kids did, or complaining when they were being a little too stubborn.
Gosh, just asking her a simple question because usually, Mom always seems to have an answer.
Losing a parent is an indescribable feeling. A lot of the time, it doesn’t even seem real outside of those little moments that bring you back to reality. Those moments when you are reminded of the loss, the anger of wondering why they had to be taken from you. Moments you can’t physically be comforted or talk to them like you desperately want to.
It’s painful.
It’s said time will heal all things, and I’m sure it does. But when you’re in the thick of grief, it’s hard to imagine. I don’t think I will ever fully heal. And that’s okay.
In time, memories won’t be so painful, they’ll be comforting. It’s comforting to know that at least you have all the beautiful memories, even though they will never replace the love you felt when they were here with you.
Tonight, I’ll tuck that stuffed animal in with my daughter (who dragged him out of the basket) and tell her how Gigi loved watching that movie with us and how she knows tonight it’s bringing us comfort.
Because that’s the best thing you can do in your grief—keep their memory alive.
Please, hold your loved ones tight.
Originally published on the author’s blog
by Lauren Flake 
by Nikki Pennington 
