There are moments in grief when everything inside you feels like it’s spinning—chaos, panic, noise.
And then… there are moments like this.
Moments where you find yourself strangely calm.
Where peace settles in so unexpectedly, it almost unnerves you.
That’s where I am right now.
🎓 I Ordered My First College Textbooks This Week
I also ordered a laptop.
Because in just a few weeks, I’ll be starting college—at nearly 50.
Me. The woman who panics in social settings.
The one who needs her husband beside her like an anchor, even when craving solitude.
The one who still wonders if she’ll be able to keep up, keep going, keep it together.
And yet… I feel calm.
Almost peaceful.
And if I’m being completely honest?
Almost a little excited.
🌪️ That’s Not Like Me
This isn’t my normal.
Even showing up to a mom support group—without my husband—was a stretch.
But I did it.
And something about that group, those women, the soul who led with quiet grace… it changed something in me.
And now, even though it’s scary, even though I’m not the “new people, new places” type… (and I certainly am not “new”) 😂
I feel a shift.
A strange sense that I’ve stepped into something that’s meant to be.
😔 And Then the Guilt Creeps In
How can I say this is where I’m “supposed” to be…
…when the road here came through the loss of my child?
How can I feel peace, or purpose, or clarity—
when that clarity only came after the unthinkable?
What does it mean to say “this feels right”…
when everything inside me would give it back in a second, if it meant I could hold Garet again?
Is this what it means when people say “everything happens for a reason”?
Because I don’t want that reason.
I want him.
🧭 Or Maybe… It’s Just the Path
Maybe it’s not that I was “meant” to lose him.
Maybe it’s that life shifted—and with that shift, a new path opened.
And now I’m walking it—not because it’s better, but because it’s what is.
Maybe this is the way grief reshapes our direction.
Maybe if Garet were still here, I’d be doing something else entirely—and that would have felt right too.
Maybe there’s no single “meant to be” in your life purpose.
Just a million paths we’re redirected to as we try to make sense of a life that no longer makes sense.
💛 I Don’t Have the Answers. I Probably Never Will.
But I do know this:
I am doing something brave.
I am answering a call I didn’t ask for, but can’t ignore.
I am finding hope in a place I never thought I’d see it again.
And that… feels strangely peaceful.
It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped grieving.
It doesn’t mean I’m “okay.”
It just means I’m moving—through the pain, with the pain, toward something that might help someone else.
Maybe learning to do uncomfortable things again isn’t so bad because, once you lose a child, things don’t feel as scary as they once did.
Our perspectives on what we feel we can’t do, it changes.
And maybe that’s what healing really is.
💬 Do You Ever Feel This Way?
Like your thoughts bounce around like marbles in a dryer?
Like you’re rambling, but somewhere inside it all, something important is being revealed?
If you’ve ever felt that weird calm in the middle of grief…
If you’ve ever felt scared to feel peace because it feels like betrayal…
You’re not alone.
This journey is messy.
But maybe—just maybe—messy is sacred too.
✍️ Try This Journaling Prompt
If you’re feeling all of this and not sure how to put it into words, try this:
“Have you ever felt strangely peaceful in a moment that should have been painful?
What did that calm feel like?
Did it bring guilt, relief, or something in between?
What do you think your heart was trying to tell you in that moment?”
Let your thoughts flow.
They don’t have to be clear.
They don’t have to make sense.
Sometimes the most healing words are the ones we didn’t expect to write.
Light and Love ~Mandy 💜
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