It has been 1,177 days.
Or 168 weeks.
Or 38 months.
Or three years, two months, and 22 days.
Since I last heard his voice.
Since Garet left this world—and took pieces of me with him.
And still…
It hasn’t gone away.
The grief. The ache. The undercurrent of pain that flows just beneath the surface of every ordinary moment.
🕯 It’s Not Gone. It’s Just… Different Now.
In the beginning, I couldn’t even breathe without forcing it.
I’d lay in bed, paralyzed. Showering took energy I didn’t have.
Brushing my teeth felt pointless.
Existing felt impossible.
Now? I breathe again.
I wake up without having to force myself to move.
I do the routines—brush the teeth, take the shower, make the bed and start the tea.
But everything I do now carries a shadow.
I do life with a heavy heart.
😔 I Still Miss Him. Just… Differently.
I still catch myself wanting to share things with Garet:
- A hilarious meme
- A video about bearded dragons
- A funny animal video
- An interesting image or photograph
- A survival show he would’ve loved
Sometimes I am even reminded of him sending me photos to inspire tumbler designs—his creative mind was always working.
I miss his laugh. His sarcasm. His voice calling, “Mom. Mama. Muuum…” until I finally snapped just to make him laugh.
The missing doesn’t stop.
Some days? It’s even worse than it used to be.
😶🌫️ The World Around Me Kept Moving
People assume time makes it better. That three years is long enough to “start feeling okay again.”
But grief doesn’t keep a calendar.
Yes, I laugh again.
But my laugh is different now.
Yes, I make jokes. But they carry the weight of someone who knows how fast everything can change.
Yes, I have dreams and goals again. But they aren’t the same as they used to be.
They are the few that survived from the “before” and carried into the “after”.
🌄 There Is Joy. But It’s a Different Kind of Joy.
💛 My husband smiling at me across the room when he knows I’m anxious
💛 My kids being smart-alecs with their dad and me—proof they inherited our sarcasm
💛 Seeing beauty again in sunsets (even when I pout and refuse to look some days)
💛 Getting excited about spring walks and wildlife
💛 Reconnecting with friends who’ve stuck through the storms
💛 Planting memorial gardens that carry his memory with every bloom
💛 Sitting under the stars and letting acceptance wash over me like soft rain
These aren’t the joys I once had.
But they’re the joys I’m learning to embrace now.
💬 What Grief Actually Looks Like Years Later
It’s routine and ache.
Laughter and longing.
Living and missing.
Still healing. Still grieving. Still growing.
So if you’re reading this and thinking, “It’s been years, why isn’t this easier yet?”—please know:
You are not doing it wrong.
You are not broken.
You are human.
And time doesn’t erase love.
Or loss.
It just teaches us how to live with it in a new way.
🕊 What Has Changed For You?
Are you further along in your grief than people expect you to be?
Or are you still waking up to the same ache every morning?
💛 You’re not alone. Neither feeling is wrong.
Drop a comment, send a message, or just breathe here with me for a moment.
We’re not “getting over it.”
We’re growing through it. Together.
Light and Love ~Mandy
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