I used to think the only way to help other people was to be emotionally healthy. Now I see, in my brokenness, it can give others opportunity to share their heartache. It allows us to be comrades in the pain and the path to healing.
I see mourning as a chest that holds all the aches and tears, the painful memories and flashbacks. Each time the lid is cracked a bit, I am shrouded in grief over missing my husband. The words I said or didn't say that hurt him, the things he held so closely and couldn't share, the laughing and crying. But, as the chest empties, my hope is that the pain will lessen. Either that, or I'll get used to it.