Grief update because the grief is still griefing and folks seem to appreciate hearing an insider’s experience. Folks who don’t get it, scroll on.
Tonight’s random musings:
I spied my 2025 cat calendar today, left on the date of the night when it all began. Maybe I’ll toss it one day. For now, it serves as a dot on my life map: a day frozen in time on a calendar.
I do things with friends and family. I have fun. I smile and laugh. My new reality is taking shape, bit by bit. I won’t call it new normal because I’ll never be the same.
Some days are better than okay.
Some days are really difficult for no obvious reason. I am doing my best to keep showing up for myself and others.
I make room in my spirit to hold that which pastors must hold, temporarily stuffing my grief into some hidden compartment, only to be released like a jack in the box once I return to the safety of my heart’s home.
Cats are no substitute for husband cuddles on a cold night.
While I am familiar with almost every house noise by now (thanks, total silence), I still get anxious when I hear a strange one, especially at night.
The world feels scary right now. I know how to reframe anxious thoughts, but I miss having my person around to tell me everything will be okay.
Apart from the writing retreat this summer, I need more things to look forward to. Short and long term. Vacation? Retirement? Oh yeah, where would I go? What would I do?
As all the grief pros know, your set of friends evolves because of the grief. Accurate. Some friendships drop off and fade away. Other folks show up in unexpected and pleasantly surprising aspects of your life. My long term friends remain a constant source of light.
I’m still here. I’m doing this.
It takes as long as it takes.
Stay safe, friends.