The new normal

Pictured: Grace died at age 23 in April 2023. Courtesy: Jennifer Lamb Neldon. 

By Jennifer Lamb Neldon

The night of April 29, 2023, changed everything. At 11:46 p.m. my world as I knew it shattered. When a police officer rang our doorbell at 1:30 a.m. to deliver the unthinkable news—that my 23-year-old daughter, Grace, was gone—I could hardly comprehend the gravity of his words. My mind raced, searching for any explanation that would allow me to believe it wasn't true. Perhaps it was someone else driving her car, or maybe she was just sleeping, unaware of the tragedy that had unfolded. But as the officer continued to speak, the reality settled in: we had lost our daughter.

Grief is a thief, stealing not just our loved ones but also the very fabric of our daily lives. Since that night, I’ve come to realize that the loss of Grace has created ripples that extend far beyond my own heart. Each day, I feel the weight of her absence, not just in the moments when I long to hear her laughter, but in the ways it has transformed my family.

My husband and I, once a united front, now find ourselves navigating this storm in profoundly different ways. While I seek solace in memories, longing to share stories about Grace or watch her favorite movies, he immerses himself in work, using distraction as a shield against the pain. It’s a chasm that has widened between us, filled with misunderstandings and unspoken sorrow. We grieve differently, and that difference can feel isolating. It’s as if we are each in our own boats, adrift on a vast ocean of grief, struggling to reconnect amid the waves.

The impact of our loss doesn’t stop there. My other children, who are also navigating their own grief, often bear the brunt of my heightened anxiety. I find myself overly protective, panicking when I don’t hear from them. Their lives continue, filled with milestones and joys, but I’m caught in a loop of fear—what if something happens to them too? My youngest has gently pointed out that I can be suffocating at times, and I feel the sting of his words. It’s a reminder that in my desire to keep them safe, I risk smothering their independence.

Family gatherings, once a source of joy, are now laced with an undercurrent of sadness. The absence of Grace is palpable, and every smile carries the weight of what could have been. I often catch myself glancing at her empty chair, wishing for just one more moment, one more laugh. Grace loved to celebrate, to bring joy to those around her, and without her, the laughter feels muted, as if the world is still adjusting to her absence. It's a bittersweet reminder that while we may gather as a family, our hearts are forever altered.

At work, I struggle to focus. My mind drifts to memories of Grace, replaying our conversations and the little things that made her uniquely her. Tasks that once felt routine now seem insurmountable, and the pressure of deadlines feels trivial compared to the void I carry. I often daydream about staying home, surrounding myself with her things, the items that still carry her scent and warmth. Those familiar comforts bring a bittersweet solace, yet they can also anchor me in grief, making it difficult to move forward.

The echoes of grief are relentless; they remind us of what we’ve lost at the most unexpected times. I replay the scene of that night in my mind. It plays on a loop, an unwelcome film that starts at the most inopportune moments, leaving me breathless and disoriented. It’s exhausting and consuming.

Grief has not only altered my emotional state but also my physical health. I’ve found myself relying on daily medication to manage anxiety that feels all-consuming. The simplest tasks can feel overwhelming; the thought of stepping outside or engaging with the world often feels like a daunting challenge. And yet, amidst this heaviness, I cling to the fragments of Grace that remain.

I find comfort in her favorite songs, the ones that bring both joy and sorrow as I listen to her voice echoing in my heart. I seek solace in old photos, capturing moments that remind me of her spirit and laughter. In these small ways, I try to weave her memory into the fabric of my everyday life, honoring the love we shared while navigating this new existence.

Living with grief is a delicate balance—a dance between remembering and moving forward. Each day brings its own challenges, and while I may never fully escape the weight of loss, I strive to find moments of beauty amidst the pain. It’s a journey, one that reshapes my understanding of life and love, reminding me that while grief is a heavy burden, it is also a testament to the profound connection we shared.