When the Boulder Shifts

I think of grief as a giant boulder you learn to carry. Over time, its edges soften, your body grows stronger, and you find ways to live with its weight. Then something shifts. A recent dream about my son Connor brought me back to a raw place I hadn’t felt in a long time. This is where I am right now: missing him, feeling every rough edge, and remembering that returning to pain doesn’t erase the healing that came before it.