Coping with Grief: A Year Without Audra
It’s been nearly a year now—a year since Audra passed. It was a Wednesday. We had already spoken twice that morning, talking about life, laughing about how much she hated Walmart and self-checkouts. Then my phone rang again. This time, it was different. “I don’t feel right,” she said. “Bring the blood pressure cuff.”
It was Spring Break, and I was home, not teaching. I ran next door, frantic, to find her slurring her words, sweet little Hayden trying to help Moomoo. Her blood pressure was too high. I called 911. She started throwing up. By the time the paramedics arrived, she was somewhat coherent. I had gotten Hunter and Nick there. Thomas was on the phone. It was bad.
By the time they loaded her into the ambulance, I saw it—Hunter saw it. The drooping side of her face. We knew. But we held onto hope. Strokes can be survived. Audra was tough and ornery. She could pull through. But it all happened so fast. Some days, the scene replays in my head. Some nights, it haunts my dreams.
I visited her in the hospital. Thomas said the prognosis was grim. We knew. She knew. She had made it clear she never wanted machines to keep her alive if there was no real quality of life. And so, we waited. We grieved even before she was gone. And then, she slipped away.
Now, nearly a year later, everything has changed, and yet, nothing has. I haven’t stepped foot next door since her memorial service. I see her willow tree—the one thing her black thumb didn’t kill. Some days, it makes me smile. Other days, it makes me cry. She should still be here. She should be helping Nick with his schoolwork, swapping recipes with me, planning our gardens together. But she isn’t. And as March 18th approaches, the weight of her absence grows heavier.
She was more than a friend. She was my sister in every way except blood. My confidante, my reality check, my protector. And now, she’s gone. There’s no one to fill her shoes. The grief is raw. The reality of outliving those we love is a harsh lesson, one I’ve always known but never fully embraced: No one is promised another day.
Finding Ways to Cope
Grief is a journey, not a destination. It changes shape but never fully disappears. If you’re walking this path, too, here are some ways to navigate the pain:
1. Allow Yourself to Feel There is no timeline for grief. Some days, you’ll laugh at a memory. Other days, the pain will take your breath away. Let it. Don’t rush healing. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve.
2. Honor Their Memory Find ways to keep their spirit alive. Cook their favorite meal. Plant something in their honor. Share their stories. Audra’s willow tree reminds me that she was here, that she mattered.
3. Lean on Your People Grief can feel isolating, but you don’t have to carry it alone. Talk to someone who understands. Share your pain, your memories, your love. Let others support you.
4. Find Purpose in the Pain Loss has a way of reshaping our priorities. I choose to love more fiercely, forgive more freely, and live more intentionally. Life is too short to do more damage.
5. Give Yourself Grace There’s no “moving on,” only moving forward. Some days will be harder than others. That’s okay. Be patient with yourself.
Grief is love with nowhere to go. And in that love, Audra remains. She may not be here to call me and tell me to snap out of it, but I hear her voice in my heart. I honor her by living, by loving, by carrying her with me in all the ways that matter.
And if there was a phone line to heaven, I know she’d be on my butt about it.
Mothersense and Miscellaneous 