A few weeks ago, I shared one of my posts about my momma on my social media timeline and wrote at the top, “I know loss gets old…”

My point was that:

1. I understand that my momma passed months ago.
   
2. I understand that I’ve already talked about it.
   
3. I understand people have already read about how this feels.
   
4. I understand that in a world full of ‘lots of sad’ no one wants to be reminded of sadness, grief, and loss. I get that. Who wants to be reminded again?

I wrote that at the top for a couple of reasons. It was a heads up for what followed or an ‘I know you probably don’t want a reminder of my momma’s loss.’

It was also a buffer for me, in case not one single person wanted to read it. If I warned them about what it was, they wouldn’t have to start and stop reading, like it’s old news.

As a writer, who is knee deep in trying to keep my sails straight in this momma loss thing, there seems to be this fine line: write about it, but don’t write about it ‘too much.’

So, what constitutes ‘too much?’ Honestly, I have no idea. And, who’s fine line is that anyway? I have a feeling it’s mine…

A friend commented on that social media post. Her response was simple, but huge:

“Loss never gets old.”

Wait, what?

Loss never gets old? As in never? What about next Thursday? Will it be old then? How about 5 weeks from now? Will it be old then? Two years from now? Will it be old then?

Not with her! Is that testament of true friendship or what?

And, we do that, don’t we? We drop the anchor when our friends and loved ones are going through stuff. We stick around for them for however long.

And, I tell you what, for the person on the other end of ‘however long’, that is pretty monumental, you know?

‘However long’ allows some wiggle room. Not healed yet? Take your time. It is open ended. Expectations are dropped in however long. And, there’s no cap on the amount of support or the time of support.

However long, may be exactly what someone needs.

This summer, we’ve been in a drought, aka, loss of rain. Our yard was brown and crispy. There was no need to mow and no weed eating was needed. Did the trees and grass give up? No, they stuck it out for however long.

The trees didn’t uproot themselves and say, “forget it, I’m going somewhere where there’s less crispy and more rain.” They stuck it out, however long.

The healing of the drought rains came. Lots and lots of rain. And, with them, our trees bloomed.

Thank you, Melanie, for “loss never gets old.” I will remember that always and carry it forward for someone else.

Thank you for reading.

Jessica

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