17 I watched you go

23 I’m still missing home

Sometimes it feels like a disease

A cancer taking me so slowly

Like it took you

 

Some days I’m fighting

Just to get out of bed

I still miss you, I still miss you

I still miss you, I still miss you

 

Loss an ocean; grief the waves

I know there’s hope, but there’s still so much pain

Time keeps moving life keeps changing

Sometimes I get tired of waiting

To see you again

 

Some days are so isolating

And I can’t keep my brain

From chasing you

6 years gone but still I see you

You’re in my dreams

But I can never reach you

Listen to Still EP: iTunes, Amazon, Spotify

 

Grief Stage: Depression

Still represents every aspect of grief I felt guilty about. I felt guilty, as I’m sure many others do, that I was still dealing with the repercussions of grief many years later. I was, and still am, angry that I can’t just move on with life.

Sometimes it feels like a disease

A cancer taking me so slowly

Like it took you

Grief has often felt like a disease. I have good days and bad days. It’s completely unpredictable, except that I know it will be with me for the rest of my life. Sometimes I am consumed by the weight of it, and other times there is a hope that is so tangible.

Loss an ocean; grief the waves

I know there’s hope, but there’s still so much pain

It’s ok to be caught between hope and pain. That’s why I wrote Still - not just this song, but the entire EP. We are a culture that is so obsessed with “pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps” and moving on, that we are terrible at acknowledging grief, much less entering into that grief. Believe it or not, there is so much beauty and hope to be found in the midst of life’s greatest pains.

Some days I’m fighting

Just to get out of bed

I still miss you, I still miss you

I still miss you, I still miss you

But at the end of the day, I still miss my mom. And you know what? It’s ok.

 

Listen to Still EP: iTunes, Amazon, Spotify