What Would You Trade for One More Hug?
- Through The Rough
- Mar 22
- 2 min read
“She said, ‘Dad, it’s time to let me go.’ And then the garage door closed.”
When Harvey said that, the entire room fell silent. Because in that single line—spoken in a dream—was everything: grief, release, and the terrifying choice to keep living without her.
This wasn’t just a story about loss. This was a story about the moment you stop trying to fix what’s gone… and start trying to carry what’s left.
Why We Asked That Question
We asked Harvey: “What was the very first thought that came into your mind the moment you found out?”
He didn’t hesitate.
“This can’t be real.”
Because that’s what real grief does—it doesn’t knock you down. It disorients you. It warps time. It pulls the air out of the room. It demands that you keep functioning while your soul is busy breaking.
But that’s the reality of losing a child. It’s not just pain. It’s shock, autopilot, rage, and a thousand moments of pretending you're okay just long enough to help your other child survive it too.
What That Moment Taught Us
Harvey never asked for pity. He asked for truth.
He told us about the phone call from the paramedic. The split-second switch into military training just to survive the moment. He told us about the moment he had to lie to his son—just to protect him from a pain he wasn’t ready to carry yet.
He told us about the garage door. The dream. The goodbye. And the way a daughter told her father he needed to keep going—without her.
“It didn’t feel like grief was leaving. It felt like it got lighter just long enough for me to breathe again.”
What This Means for You, the Listener
If you’ve ever:
Lost someone and felt like time froze
Had to be strong when you were falling apart
Wished you could trade everything for one more hug
Then Harvey's story is your story too.
It’s not about what you’ve been through—it’s about what you still carry. And it’s about how you carry it.
Because grief doesn’t end. It doesn’t “get better.” But it can get lighter. It can get shared. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Ask yourself:
What are you still holding on to that you’re finally ready to set down?
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