Grief has a funny way of making you feel things like: ‘my dad is dead. Okay, I accept this,’ and the next week vacillating to something more like ‘I can’t breathe. How have I lived this long without my best friend?’ I often feel like a worse version of myself without him here on earth. He really saw me. He supported every dream I ever had and my pursuits without him here feel wrong. I find myself clambering around in the mountains grasping for pieces of him...forgotten words he spoke to me, his laugh and smile, his encouragement. Feeling so sad he isn’t here to have conversations with my ever curious son; talking about different insects and how did humans evolve and why does the moon have phases and what his testicles are REALLY for. 🤦🏼♀️ And to see his granddaughter shout at the top of her lungs how strong and brave she is while she climbs up big rocks, leaping off them with joyful abandon.
There is no pretty bow of resolution on grief and death; only learning and choosing to keep living. And I look at these three in the frame here, and once again, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for being alive. Salty hair and sandy feet and warm hands and loud giggles and Red’s freckled skin and fresh coffee and feeling good in my healthy body. There are a million details to be happy for, every single day. - 11 hours ago