A hug for my soul

A journey of grieving and healing after child loss

When I’m with me, I’m with him


My grief partner lit my gloomy heart up with this simple observation.

It is not like a language exchange program where you giggle away your imperfect pronunciations in Korean, grief group work is like being Prometheus plus having to lift ginormous stones from a rocky valley which you declared a meadow your whole life. The space you are able to reclaim and the growth which wets your eyes are profound, because grief hits like massive waves unexpectedly, especially when you are already dreadfully wet and cold.

What I have discovered is, the unexpected waves no one has dared to surf contains more than just energy generated by the water work, there’s much more.

Sometimes it storms in as a misspoken feeling which was manipulated into a belief that an out-sourced emotion has much more on us than the other way round; Sometimes it is a soup of everything self-punishing which all humans use as a pathway to the, wait for it, illusion of entitlement and deserving; Sometimes it’s the voice of your aunt shushing ‘don’t talk about it’. Debris of your certain beliefs like to dive and surf and smash you, lurking around while disguised as grief, or sometimes they just hide themselves so well that you feel so entitled to blame grief itself.

What is the essence of grief? What took the joy out of my face today was the thought of ‘I should have spent more time in the hospital with Vincent’, so, separation. I grieved for the rest of my days, hours, minutes and seconds which I could have also spent sitting next to his incubator with him on my chest, or changing his diaper and cuddling those tiny feet, while he was still alive. Instead, I was not there with him all the time. I went for walks, I took my daughter to picnics in that summer, I spent time with my family, I got shit drunk with my husband. I felt like the worst mother.

Our conversation guided me to some space I refused to see.

I believed I needed to be more than the best version of me to handle that event and take care of everyone and everything, yet I allowed myself to be taken care of by everyone and everything, including my dying baby. With a false belief I blamed myself for allowing that to happen, but when I truly looked back, it was how it was supposed to be – I’m here to be me, not God. I’m not here to fix or juggle everything, even death, but to be human, and to experience the out-of-control love through that profound loss.

I feel truly centered and whole, deserving and grateful. The part I thought has been lost, has never been so vividly present, like being surrounded by hundreds of white butterflies with my loved ones on a remote Japanese island.

When I’m with me, I’m with him. There has never been any separation. Not when I had him in my belly, not when I was sitting next to him, not when I stood a thousand miles away from his grave.

Guan Yin says, separation is not eternal, togetherness is.

It is a choice. We came here with free will, every moment of our lives we are making choices, even by not making a choice is a choice.

When you choose to be present and grounded but not to indulge in self pity or entitlement, not to seek shelter in the belief of self sabotage or others’ misery, when you finally allow your true essence to unfold, no one has left and never will. Togetherness and oneness is our nature.

And be compassionate because it takes time and courage. You are here to be human, not Guan Yin.

With the current event happening to mankind as a whole, each and every one of us is experiencing the upheaval individually. Those feelings are created by ourselves within our experiences and imprints, you always have a choice to be with yourself, because that is the only way to be together with others, love together and grow together as a whole.

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