The cost of love.


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“Grief is just love, dressed in all black. ”

The cost of love is high.

Higher than we realize, until suddenly, there’s no way around it.

It’s in our face. There’s no ignoring it. There’s no bypassing it. There’s no filtering it out or watering it down.

Our life is disrupted and changed forever. We’re awake at 4am writing an email because we’re in too much pain to sleep. We cry intermittently for no reason and every reason all at once. We view life through a different lens, a lens where the cost of sharing our heart has gone up substantially and we wonder if it’ll completely bankrupt us, because it feels like it will.

It’s grief.

The cost of love is grief.

My heartbeat for the last 14 years, Haylie, many of you know our story or have read our book, left this earth on February 9th.

It amazes me that I’m walking and talking and writing emails because I swear, I died along with her that day.

Most situations in my life up until now that were followed by grief, the death of grandparents, the ending of relationships, the loss of friends to suicide, I was either over/improperly-medicated at the time and felt nothing at all or I pacified the pain with some numbing agent that I found in the dessert aisle at the grocery store.

Life without Haylie began much the same way. The UberEats guys knew their way to my apartment like the back of their hand.

After awhile, I made a decision: this stops.

The numbing stops. The pacifying stops. The pretending it didn’t happen stops. The honoring and the pain and the grief begin.

And since then, I’ve mostly wanted to die more than I’ve wanted to be alive. But here I am. Living and shit. Without her.

Music and baths at 3am and essential oils that support grieving and reading books on pet loss and writing a manuscript I never thought I’d write and walking outside. It’s all found a place in the grief. And while I always thought healthy coping skills were designed to make the pain go away, it turns out, the pain still exists, they simply help you survive it.

How hard you grieve is a direct reflection of how hard you loved.

Because grief is just love, dressed in all black.

And the cost of love is high.


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