One Step at a Time
Hello, spinach smoothie. It took me four times longer than usual, and I almost cussed out loud when I couldn’t find the peanut butter. But I finally found it tucked behind the tomato sauce, hit the start button on my Vitamix, and enjoyed my first homemade spinach smoothie since December 14. A step (or in this case ten) at a time.
Grief is not busy work. What used to be automatic takes immense energy.
There is no formula to follow that guarantees safe and speedy exit from this tunnel. I can’t check off some things on a list today and know that I’m one day or month or year closer to feeling normal, whatever the heck that will come to mean. This is hard work that engages the very ligaments and fibers of your being, your gut, crevices in your mind you didn’t know existed.
From The Worst Loss – “You are hard at work. Your mind is actively, intensely engaged in the hardest work that human beings must ever do: coming to terms with loss.”
I ask myself, “Am I feeling what I’m supposed to feel? Am I crying enough? Too much? Should I be with people more? Less? Should I read more books on grief or just sit on the couch and be still?”
Because I did everything wrong the first time around when my mom died, I am trying to lean into this process and be healthy about it. I know I have to feel the pain. But there’s a balance.
If I just look at pictures of Chandler all day, sit in his room, read through his journal, watch his memorial video, I am afraid I will become paralyzed by the pain of losing him. I can’t take it in all at once.
A friend will come and sit with me while I read his journal and the memorial service sign-in book. But not yet. We will eventually make his room into a bonus room. But not yet. I may take an entire day to just soak in the reality of never being able to hug my boy again. But not yet.
I have to take it a step at a time.