Perhaps you might imagine or have even experienced this yourself.
I am writing this post on Wednesday, April 4, 2018. Today would have been Joe’s 43rd birthday.
The cloud of Grief I step in and out of is constantly changing color and texture and density.
Even after almost seven years, I expect my most important Grief days to be held gently with care by all. Today is one of those days.
It may sound strange to designate certain days as “important” when talking about Grief. But I didn’t designate them as such. Grief did.
For Grief is a shapeshifter.
It slowly burrowed a hole in my heart where it now lies quietly most times.
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Eventually, I was able to fall back into a dreamless sleep.
As I opened my eyes with the light of day, it took me a moment to gather my thoughts and bearings. My phone was beeping at me. A text message from my sister Marie.
Still half asleep, my first thought was one of joy. My sister was a grandmother for the first time!
And then I saw the date. April 4. Grief smacked me in the face. It slithered out of its lair, wrapped its many tentacles tightly around my every part and squeezed the tears and sobs out of my being.
Mixed blessing, a new birth on the day.
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