Resilience I have a love/ hate relationship with that word. I wish I wasn’t so resilient sometimes, as I feel it would be easier to crumble and wither away in my grief and tears, but I’m also glad I am. Being resilient means I’m still here. I didn’t join John. I could have. Easily. Being resilient means that I get to see sunsets and sunrises, … Continue reading Resilience
A dear friend of mine, who is also grieving, asked me how I was really doing the other day. My answer for that day was “I’m actually doing ok” huh. I explained I was still sad, and that he had just missed a sudden grief tsunami of my tears and sobbing, but at that time i was actually, truly, ok. I told him that despite … Continue reading Hope chest of drawers
I’m not sure when I realized I stopped counting the seconds, the minutes, the hours… but I just realized I stopped counting the months at some point. I actually stopped counting the exact time since John left. One day it was the 8th day of a month, and I didn’t even notice the 5th skipped by. Huh. I’m trying to pass on that bit of … Continue reading C
They say it’s your birthday. John would have been 48 today. It’s odd to think that in two years, I’ll have been alive longer than he was. He was always supposed to be older than me. One day he won’t be. Quite a few people have checked in on me today, hoping I’m ok. I didn’t know what to say. I am ok? I’m wondering … Continue reading Birthday
I attended a gala for mental health a few months ago. I think I’d mentioned that in a previous entry. I had a wee bit of hope after that night. Hope that some suicides are preventable and permanently avoided. Well, another blow to hope came last week. One of the “successful” patients who was a walking, talking proof that we can truly have hope, took … Continue reading Don’t ask Questions…
That’s me. My father’s daughter. A pilot. Swearing is part of my vocabulary. I love history and hot mustard and i suck at hugging. His childhood was as fucked as it was for many in the 1940’s: A bit of violence, a bit of rage, lots of love and a new world to discover after a long war. He was the youngest of 10 surviving … Continue reading my father’s daughter
It’s quite amazing that a human can seemingly produce tears to infinity. You’d think you’d dry out, but I haven’t yet. I seem to actually run out of energy to cry before the tears dry up. The waves of emotion have been wider lately, that is, a spaces of time exist between the bottomless sadness that are now longer than they were before. Perhaps it’s … Continue reading Werewolves cry, too.