There is hope in complex grief, there is hope in delayed grief.

My brother passed five years ago last week.

For five years I talked around my brother’s sudden death with a weight I couldn’t feel, but everyone else could.

I carried a conviction that mid-summer dread would haunt the rest of my young life. That no summer would feel warm again.

After experiencing professional, romantic, and therapeutic ruptures all in the span of 4 days surrounding this 5th anniversary, the narrative broke. I broke. The necessary kind of break, like the re-fracturing of a leg so it can the set and heal in alignment.

After a life of trauma…why did I not fracture after this last blow?

One foot at a time. One moment at a time. One feeling at a time.

One day, if you are patient (and even if you aren’t), if you persist, you may turn back some day and see that you weren’t doing it alone…in a way…and you’re so much farther than you ever thought you could get.

There’s no right way, only yours.