I don’t need to be saved from my grief. I don’t need people to protect me from my pain. As if anyone could. I don’t need you to tell me it will get better. I don’t need to be told everything happens for a reason. I don’t need to be saved from my life.
I don’t want to be saved from it. This is my life, as ugly as it has been at times. I have earned the right to grieve. I have been irreparably broken. To many, being saved from it sounds like the most wonderful option. Not to me. I don’t want to be saved. This grief and pain is part of my story. I would not be who I am without it.
I don’t need to be saved. I am strong enough to live this. I want to remember the love and the devastation. I want to remember the joy and the loss. I want to honor him and grieve him. I don’t want to be saved from that.
This is my story now. I am the keeper of his legacy. This is my life. The grief and pain are important parts of this story and this life. I am strong enough. They validate what I’ve been through. They made me who I am now.
I don’t need to be saved. I need to be loved. I need to be accepted for the pretty parts and the not so pretty ones. I need people to embrace my joy and my grief. I am never going to move on. This is who I am now. I am grief. I am joy. I am sadness. I am a widow.
I don’t need to be saved. I already saved myself. I only need to be loved.