While visiting the picturesque island of Sanibel, I wandered into a small toy store. What started as a casual shopping trip became a profound and unforgettable encounter. Behind the register stood a small woman whose warmth and empathy touched me deeply. As we spoke, I shared my story of trauma and loss, tears streaming down my face. Her response was unexpected yet powerful. She didn’t promise that things would get better, just different.

Her words have echoed in my mind since, prompting me to reflect on my healing process. Can things ever truly get better after trauma and loss, or do they simply become different? This question has shaped my understanding of life since June 2020 as I navigate the twists and turns of an undeniably altered reality.

The Encounter in the Toy Store

It was in September 2020 that I decided I needed to get away. I wanted to go someplace I was familiar and comfortable with. Sanibel Island, Florida, kept coming to my mind. It had been at least 15 years since I had set foot on the island. My memories of it were very fond. With the help and encouragement of my family, I planned a semi-solo trip. I booked two weeks in a small condo on the beach. To stay on the beach in Sanibel for more than a quick visit was on my bucket list, so I had no problem saying yes to myself.

One day, I was out riding my bike and decided to stop at a strip on the main road. I remembered a great little boutique, and it was still there. After shopping, I wandered further in and found a small toy store. I needed to get something for the grandbaby. A small woman was sitting behind the cash register in the corner. She greeted me when I walked in and asked where I was from. Still in an ever-so-fragile state, I started crying and telling her my whole story.

To my surprise, she, too, had been through something quite similar. She recounted another lifetime when she was young, married, and had two adolescent children. A boy and a girl. Her story is not mine to share, but I could see the pain in her eyes. The same pain I felt. It was still there within her, and I could tell she had it buried very deep. She touched my shoulder and said the haunting words I will never forget; “You are still in it. You can’t see past this yet. Things will eventually look different.” And then she stood there and cried with me until the shop phone rang. In that instant, the connection was broken, and I said “goodbye” and left.

Reflecting on “Different” not “Better”

What has stayed with me is her use of the word “different” instead of many others she could have chosen. She could have said “better,” but she didn’t. The pain in her eyes told me she meant to say “different” and nothing else. So I left that day hoping that I might feel different but never whole, never fully healed, and never the same as before…just different.

She also added that things got so bad that she sold everything she owned and moved across the state, where she started a completely new life. How ironic that that might have been the seed planted in my head.

The Nature of Change

Since June 2020, I have driven to the West Coast and back twice by myself. I’ve spent months in Florida, Oregon, California, and Colorado, just to name a few of the most beautiful states I’ve ever seen. When I was caught up in life and tied to a job and family, I had always dreamed of a day just to go. Now was that day, and I took full advantage. Did it heal me? No, but it gave a sense of peace to my heart, knowing my life could be anything I choose to make it from today forward. I remind myself of that frequently.

As of today, his death anniversary has come and gone four times now. I’ve celebrated his birthday five times without him. We’ve had four imaginary anniversaries. We celebrated a new grandbaby who will soon be turning four as well. There are so many milestones, and yet sometimes it seems like yesterday. Just the other day my cousin and I talked about our lives five years ago, and we both agreed that it was another lifetime ago. So many changes in just a short time. Not all changes were for the better, and some were definitely hard. But without them, we wouldn’t all be where we are today.

Is change healing? I don’t have an answer to that. What I have discovered though, is that I am in control of most of the change that happens in my life. We all are; we don’t see it sometimes. We get lost in the chaos of daily life.

I used just to let life go by. Not anymore. Everyone used to say, “Get used to the new normal.” There is nothing normal in the aftermath of losing a loved one. Incidentally, here’s a tip; don’t say that to someone who is grieving.

REFLECTIONS

So, in reflection on “Are things better or just different?” I have to say both. If you’ve read anything I’ve written before, you know I don’t fully subscribe to the stages of grief. Personally, I feel like they are just a made-up roadmap to help us all prepare for unexpected emotions surrounding grief, but I won’t get into that here. Grief has so many layers, as does trauma.

But at the end of the day, things are different now than they were. Some good, some bad, but mostly just “different.” My family has gotten older, I’ve moved several times, accomplished some things I’ve always wanted to do, and seen places I always dreamed of. Some as a direct result of loss, but some not, and each day I wake up, I still have the ritual of looking outside and seeing possibility. When I go to bed at night, I meditate on what I am thankful I still have in my life.

Thanks for reading. –xxooC