Forever Changed
By Rhonda Wilson
Asheboro, North Carolina

Can you see the change in me?  It may not be so obvious to you.
I participate in family activities. I attend family reunions.  I help plan
holiday meals. You tell me you’re glad to see that I don’t cry any more. 

But I do cry.  When everyone has gone—when it is safe—the tears fall.  I
cry in privacy so my family won’t worry.  I cry until I am exhausted and can
finally fall asleep.

I’m active in my church.  I sing hymns.  I listen to the sermon.  You tell me
you admire my strength and my positive attitude. 

But I’m not strong.  I feel that I have lost control, and I panic when I think
about tomorrow…next week…next month…next year. 

I go about the routines of my job.  I complete my assigned tasks.  I drink
coffee and smile.  You tell me you’re glad to see I’m “over” the death of my
loved one.

But I’m not “over it.”  If I get over it, I will be the same as before my loved
one died.  I will never be the same.  At times I think I am beginning to heal,
but the pain of losing someone I loved so much has left a permanent scar on
my heart.

I visit my neighbors.  You tell me you’re glad to see I’m holding up so well. 

But I’m not holding up so well.  Sometimes I want to lock my door and hide
from the world.

I spend time with friends.  I appear calm and collected.  I smile when
appropriate.  You may tell me it’s good to see me back to my “old self.”

But I will never be back to my “old self.”  Death  and grief have touched my
life, and I am forever changed.

Reprinted with permission of Bereavement Publishing, Inc.  1-888-604-HOPE (4673)