As conversations evolve with family and friends, he is spoken of in the present tense. Is it because I’ve not accepted my loss? Perhaps, but will it ever change?

It is unfathomable to me that the possibility of moving forward alone is even a real thing. All the past decades have secured one thing, and that is that WE are. How can I be single? How can I be alone? How can I function as a solitary human being when every thought is still we?

It’s like a dream one cannot wake from. It follows me everywhere, whether into the next room, out in the yard, or miles down the road.

Functions engaged in, like a church service, are ingrained in me. They are the same things we did, only now I sit alone. Often others are happy to see me out and about. At other times it’s as if I were invisible, because people don’t know what to say.

Grief doesn’t just show up the day they die or are buried. It shows up on a random night or aisle eight at the grocery store. It’s there when their favorite song plays on the radio or at a family dinner.

Grief shows up on sleepless nights, on a tear dampened pillow. It’s there when the phone rings and it’s not them, or in the photo album. It’s always unexpected and neither welcome nor invited.

We don’t lose them only once. We lose them when our eyes close at night and open each morning to find the empty chair, the clunk of his boots, his unused mug, his whistling as he works. We lose them when the sun rises and when darkness closes in at sunset. We lose them as we wonder why while gazing at the starlit sky.

We lose them on holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, and all the regular days, too. We lose them as we toss out their favorite foods gone bad as we continue to buy them from habit.

We lose them in the ordinary: paying bills, discussing home repairs, appliance replacements, plans for the future, and vacation planning. We lose them as we lug the trash out to the side of the road and do other chores they always did.

We lose them in the conversations never to be had and all the words unsaid, even after fifty-seven years.

They are lost in the scent of their body wash and cologne or a slice of their favorite pie. They are lost in all the places we have been and places we had longed to go. They are lost in the dreams as the broken pieces of your heart are picked up over and over.

Beginning our lives anew, we realize this is our new reality and it will never include them. It matters not how much they are missed, needed, or loved, because they are gone and now we must go on — alone. As the seasons change, the cold winds blow, the flowers bloom, everything turns green, and as the leaves begin to fall, we lose them again and again, day after day for the rest of our mortal lives.

They are carried further away as time passes and some details and memories begin to blur. No, we don’t lose them once. We lose them over and over, and hopefully in the process and with time, we find ourselves again and can smile, laugh, experience a deepened joy, and live again — but without them.

Often grieving folks are offended by comments from well meaning people such as, “Think of the good times;” “You’ll see them again;” or the ever-dreaded “They’re in a better place.”

While all of this may be true, it does little to soothe the ache of loss. At the same time, try not to be harsh, judgmental, or offended, but rather seek to understand their intentions, which are generally filled with concern and love.

Anyone who hasn’t yet experienced the loss of an immediate family member wants to help. They truly want to give you comfort and would never consider being offensive in any way. The thing is, they are at a loss for the right words and actions.

They care, or they wouldn’t even bother to offer comfort. It’s hard to explain but what we really want is to know they care, that we are not alone, that our loved one is not forgotten and that we are hurting in an unfathomable way.

Grief is the price we pay for love … and will be with me the rest of my earthly journey, but would I exchange this pain and loss for the years of love and memories? Never. So the price is paid willingly for a wonderful life of love and legacy. It is the price of love.