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For the first few months after Sam’s death, I suffered stabbing headaches in and around my eyes.
“Narrow-angle glaucoma,” the ophthalmologist said. “Yours is the worst I’ve seen.”
I wondered if the pain was from not crying. I didn’t ask. The question sounded ridiculous in my head: My son, he’s gone, and it hurts when I cry, so I wonder, did this happen, this buildup—of tears?—because I’ve been stopping myself from crying? Suppressing grief, like pruning branches, I’ve learned, only causes it to mushroom.
(an excerpt from Willower: Rewriting Life After Unimaginable Loss: Chapter 8. Grieving)
It’s been over eighteen years since my little boy died. So I wasn’t expecting this.
Continue reading “Grief grabbed me again”
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