Today I’m thinking of all the people alone in their grief.
The people who don’t have a safe space to speak of their loved one gone too soon—because regardless of when, why, or how someone died, it always feel too soon, doesn’t it?
The people who are still waiting for someone else to acknowledge their loss, to speak the name of the deceased.
Today I’m thinking of the people who have been silenced in their grief and pain because the name of their lost loved one doesn’t seem all that significant to the world at large.
The people whose loss has gone unnoticed because their loved one is relatively unknown.
The people whose loss has been brushed over, whose grief isn’t validated.
The people who have received the message that their loss doesn’t matter.
Today I’m thinking of the people who have lost a loved one naturally, tragically, in any way at all.
The people who arose to find an empty bed, with no hope for it to be slept in again. The people with full hearts and empty homes. The people who have open seats around their kitchen table that should be full. The people who have closets to clean out because someone won’t be coming back to wear the clothes it holds or the shoes piled up on the floor.
The people who have names we’ll never know. And who hold names in their hearts that we’ll never hear spoken.
Today I’m thinking of all the grievers who need support but don’t have it. I’m thinking of all the people in the midst of their own tragedy who have been left to navigate it alone.
Today I’m thinking of all the people whose hurt goes unseen.
Every life matters.
Every loss matters.