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A true story of grief: the sunday Wordle
Disclaimer: This is a true story. It is written with all my heart. It isn’t a happy tale, but it is my life.
You hear stories about it, about the horror of having State Troopers come to your door at night. “Are you Mrs. Bialczak?” “Yes” “Is Joseph Bialczak your son?” “Oh God! NO!” “There was an accident….”
The shock that comes immediately following is strange. I didn’t cry right away. I ran upstairs to tell Lindsay that her brother died. I yelled to David. It was like a bad dream coming true. You feel as though your heart is being torn out of your body.
Only thirteen months before it wasn’t the State Police, it was the surgeon. “Mrs. Bialczak?” “Yes, is Bob out of surgery?” “I’m sorry to tell you this…”
Why do I write about this truth when I should be writing a fictional tale? Why not write a light-hearted story of love? I think some of it is to release the feelings of sorrow that I lock up on a daily basis, just to survive. I am not too shy to tell the truth. I suppose my ability to mourn may help lift someone else up from a dark place, realizing they are not alone. It is a tiny piece of a huge picture that I sometimes need to share.
As I sit and write this, there is a fire that burns deep inside of me, a fire so hot I don’t think anyone or anything could ever put out. Too often though, it is too hard to talk about. But, the more I keep it in, the bigger it grows.
When something tragic happens and the world moves on around you, it hurts. The one thing I have learned though is that people are willing to listen, most often times they are just unsure or afraid of how to bring it up. I have learned that it is okay to bring this up when I need to because it is my truth and the life I live. I don’t need to spread sorrow, so as to feel so not alone, rather I need to spread the truth so others can begin to heal which in turn is helping me to heal.
Thank you to all of my WP community for being so supportive.