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Little Things Hit Hard

This got me tonight. Sometimes in grief, it’s the little things you aren’t expecting that hit the hardest.

On my last trip into the house from unpacking the car, I looked down and all the emotions hit me at once.

The burgundy suitcase was my Grandma Gloria’s. We buried her on Saturday after spending a wonderful final week as a family in the town she was born and raised in. A town that was such an important part of my childhood through early adulthood, and home to many significant people in my life.

The black suitcase is one Greg and I purchased for our honeymoon. The bow is a piece of fabric that he tied on there nearly 15 years ago to help us recognize it in baggage claim. If you look closely you can see the tell-tale sign that Gorilla Glue is holding it together (Greg’s go-to fix for many many things!). And that airline tag? A fresh one from our last trip together in January of 2020.

To any neighbor walking past me, those suitcases would seem so insignificant. Yet to me they are reminders of two people who I loved dearly and miss oh so much. Two people I had to say goodbye to and begin to grieve less than a year apart.

In grief, sometimes the little things seem so big. Or maybe grief helps us to see more clearly that the little things really are the big things after all.

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