The weirdness of how grief permeates life continues. Tomorrow is Halloween. Part of me would like to hand out candy. I loved seeing the little kids all dressed up especially ones that reminded me of my own two children. This year, I'm afraid those same small children will make me cry. Not all of them but that random child who will be so cute and so excited about Halloween...
And answering the door, looking sad or possibly shedding a tear or outright crying while I'm handing out children ( on the one hand, kinda geeky funny) on the other hand, does not seem like a way to make Halloween the fun holiday it should be for those same children! So, I'm considering keeping the house dark and watching netflix in the basement. Seems sad too. I'm going back and forth between pushing myself to do it and feeling like it's too big a risk for them. I mean, I can cry anywhere now! But I don't want some child asking their mom why that lady is sad...
Along the same lines, we've figured out how to have our own small Thanksgiving and a rough outline of Christmas. When my Mom died, I struggled through Thanksgiving and Christmas. Her birthday is around Thanksgiving which made it harder for all of her family. As I write this, I keep thinking, one day at a time. One foot, like I'm climbing a mountain, at a time. Take a breath, step, take a breath step. The most overwhelming thought these days is living forward without Andrew in it. My grief says now and usually; do not think about that. I try hard to listen to this advice.
And mornings are just hard. My husbands been gone for a work trip. I realized being alone is a whole new set of skills. Next time I have to set up time with friends even though after work I'm so tired.
Also, I'm an introvert. I need alone time but when there is too much of it or I'm overtired from not sleeping well, my ability to keep sadness and tears from overwhelming me is weakened. I remind myself, grieving is an action. It takes energy.
On the plus side, I've been picking a key word for the year, in the last couple years. My word for this year is Brave. Yes, I bet I know what some of you are thinking right now. And yes, bravery has become about doing everyday things like going to a exercise class where they might play randomly play a favorite song of Andrews, going to sleep knowing I might lay there struggling to silence the sad thoughts or have a good dream about Andrew but I don't know which.... Meeting friends when I don't feel like it because I feel better afterward. For me being brave is also about the possibility of running into people who don't know about my grief. I don't want to have to tell them. It's so exhausting at this stage. I dread it. Which works with my introversion but not public places.
It's all part of how I grieve. And I was thinking today about all the people in California; through Andrew I met some truly wonderful people. I've been praying for them and will continue to do so. I know they are suffering through the pain, the anxiety of these fires, the two year destruction. My therapist self reminds me the experience of pain is relative. Suffering is suffering is suffering. So, one thing I can do from my understanding of pain is to pray their suffering is eased. Andrew was so compassionate, such a good listener. I know he would want that. I'm sure he's with them too. That helps. Thank you for your prayers for me and my family.
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