I heard a talk from a bereaved mummy who said our grief is like sea glass. It starts as a raw broken piece, with sharp edges that is painful to hold and easy to cut us. But as every wave crashes down upon us the edges smooth a tiny bit. Our grief won’t ever go but one day perhaps it will be transformed into something else. Something easier to hold, something that doesn’t cut so easily. Maybe even something ‘beautiful’.
Yesterday I went to the beach to connect and feel close to Elliott. To calm my aching heart. To soothe the painful yearn. To find a bit of peace. To take comfort in the breeze kissing my cheeks.
As we were there my older children were collecting shells and found a piece of sea glass. “We found a crystal heart” they said with excitement and I was immediately reminded of the sea glass-grief reference.
Maybe it was a sign sent at a time I really needed it. Maybe it was a random discovery. But whatever it was it was a needed reminder that one day just maybe these painful edges will smooth out. A reminder that the waves that crash down on me that make me feel like I’m drowning could be helpful and needed for this process of transforming my grief.
I thought, maybe we all have ‘crystal’ hearts. Broken yet strong. Fragile but precious. Shaped by love and loss, and tumbling through waves.
So here’s to our crystal hearts, and calmer more gentler waters that come after the big waves.