Just an older lady, sitting on a park bench, writing about her grief. Nothing to see here. Move along.
On the eve of the death-versary (I will always call it that), I’ve got too many words and not enough words simultaneously.
Thus far, this week of solo travel provided everything my spirit needed: the familiarity of places we traveled together, mild exploration of places yet uncharted, solitude and introverting time, and proving to myself that I can do this. I am doing this.
I am proud of myself for the vulnerability and courage it’s taken to document this past year. You do not have to understand my journey. Clearly, some folks don’t and either left my life quietly or provided low frequency background noise. To the rest who’ve stuck around, I love you and am grateful for your persistence. May I similarly abide with you in your grief at some future point.
Grief will find you. Every single one of you. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, it will be your turn. I pray that when it’s your time, you will give yourself grace and space.
Grief still sucks, albeit with less frequency and severity. God is still good. See you on the road to find out.
Also, stop and smell the roses.