Each Day is the Worst Day

This morning has been incredibly difficult. I woke up feeling completely lost, unsure how I’ll move forward without Eddie. It’s not that I don’t want to be here—I do—but I don’t know how to exist in this world without him by my side. The depth of my grief is beyond anything I ever imagined. I know losing someone you love is the natural course of life, but right now, I don’t want to be me.

My whole body continues to tremble. No tears, just clenched teeth. My body feels like one big sinus headache. I know this is my way of trying to hold back the grief that I need to feel in order to heal. But I still want to believe this isn’t really happening—not just to me, but to our children, our family, and our friends. Eddie was such a sweet soul who touched so many lives.

Grief Counseling 101

I know I can’t walk this road alone. I’m part of an online grief group called Tender Hearts, run by grief specialist David Kessler. Listening to others share their experiences—how they navigate grief and anxiety, grief and fear, grief and anger, grief and loneliness—has been helpful. Because I am feeling all of it. The grief is there every day, but it comes in different forms.

Added to my grief is the worry for my son and Eddie’s children. I am witnessing firsthand how the loss of my son’s stepfather is affecting him. Eddie meant so much to him, and how he carries my sadness along with his own. Through Tender Hearts, I’m learning that we cannot take on another’s grief—we can only be there for each other in the ways we need.

So, on this hardest of days, when I want to curl up and shut the world out, I hear Eddie’s voice—and now my son’s—echoing in my head: Lisa Fagan (Mom), Did you move today? I will keep moving—physically and keep moving forward through my grief. One step at a time.

God give me strength.