I don’t recall exactly when I got this mug, but I do recall having a good laugh over it. This time of year can be extra peopley. As someone who appreciates her downtime to recharge, this mug is a pefect fit for sipping some hot cocoa or tea while decompressing with a Hallmark movie.
Yesterday evening, I spied the mug in the cabinet. As I took it out for a cuppa, I began to cry when I read its message. I almost made it through this “first” Thanksgiving weekend sans waterworks. Why the tears over a mug?
I’ve got silent nights in droves.
Grief experts encourage making plans: for the holidays, the anniversaries, the days you anticipate will be difficult, etc. Great advice. I’ve made plans. I have places to go and folks I can call. I do things with my people. Dare I say, sometimes I even have a little bit of levity and laughter. It even feels ‘normal’ to some degree.
But then I come home to my silent situation. No human to greet. No one asking about my day. No trumpet music. No laughter. No television blaring. No one asking me for something from the fridge. No one to listen to my latest rant. No one to watch a program with. The nights are extraordinarily silent.
Thankfully, I can embrace the solitude, but that doesn’t make it easy. My new reality is emerging as layers of grief are peeled back. I am becoming. Soli Deo Gloria.