Grief....and a stone.

I came across this beautiful writing by Jessica Watson today.  One of my friends had shared it on her facebook messages, and it really struck me as a wonderfully insightful statement of grief.

I share this here on my Blog Page hoping that this message and the beautiful sunshine of this February day is a balm for anyone who may need the warmth of both.

Grief is Like Carrying a Stone in Your Pocket

“The best way I can describe grief as the years go by is to say it’s similar to carrying a stone in your pocket.

When you walk, the stone brushes against your skin. You feel it. You always feel it. But depending on the way you stand or the way your body moves, the smooth edges might barely graze your body.

Sometimes you lean the wrong way or you turn too quickly and a sharp edge pokes you. Your eyes water and you rub your wound but you have to keep going because not everyone knows about your stone, or if they do, they don’t realize it can still bring this much pain.

There are days you are simply happy now, smiling comes easy and you laugh without thinking. You slap your leg during that laughter and you feel your stone and aren’t sure whether you should be laughing still. The stone still hurts.

Once in a while you can’t take your hand off that stone. You run it over your fingers and roll it in your palm and are so preoccupied by its weight, you forget things like your car keys and home address. You try to leave it alone but you just can’t. You want to take a nap but it’s been so many years since you’ve called in “sad” you’re not sure anyone would understand anymore or if they ever did.

But most days you can take your hand in and out of your pocket, feel your stone and even smile at its unwavering presence. You’ve accepted this stone as your own, crossing your hands over it, saying “mine” as children do.

You rest more peacefully than you once did, you’ve learned to move forward the best you can. Some days you want to show the world what a beautiful memory you’re holding. But most days you twirl it through your fingers, smile and look to the sky. You squeeze your hands together and hope you are living in a way that honors the missing piece you carry, until your arms are full again.”

 Written by Jessica Watson ~ Four Plus An Angel





  • I love this writing. My sister-in-law and best friend past away a year ago August from brain cancer. It’s hard because I can’t call her to see how she is doing. I took her for all her treatments and had her come to our house so she wasn’t alone during the day. I ask if there was anything she wanted to do so I took her wherever she wanted to go. The stone would be a great way to feel like she was with me all the time. Thanks for the idea.

    Janet Ring
  • Thank you so much for this, we are experiencing an horrible situation here with my son, glioblastoma stage 4, I will re-read this many times and I’m sending it to my husband and my daughter right away. It’s hard to type through tears but I had to connect with you and say Thank You!!

    Diana Levinson

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