Seasoned

I know.....

It's been a while. 

And I've thought of you often. 

But Winter brings a bear-like hibernation to me along with wooly socks. 

I do love me some wooly socks. 

But now I'm back and posting about.....

Wait for it....

Just a second longer....

Grief! 

Yet again. 

My dad called today and we had a nice chat; the weather, skiing, my knee, my nephews....the conversation got a little stale and he was ready to go. 

"Okay," he said, "Anything else?" 

"I went to a grief group last night." 

"Oh God," he said. 

"I know! I know! I know!" I said. "But you would be so proud, I only dropped a couple F-bombs and they weren't in regards to the speaker! And guess what? I was called a seasoned griever." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Apparently it's someone who has been grieving for a really, really long time." 

"Huh" 

And so we chatted for a bit longer- mainly about the times he has accompanied me to grief groups that have been outrageously sad. 

Which is fitting because these are grief groups for parents who have lost children. And at times they are indeed, outrageously sad. 

Ironically I don't go to be sad. 

I go to search. And I have not found what I am looking for. 

I search for grief process that resonates with me. 

Something I can follow, believe in, trust in. 

Something I can be true to and something that is true to me.

As a seasoned griever, I feel I should have found this. 

And yet there are still days I wear my grief like a hair sweater. 

Sounds itchy. 

Makes me squirmy. 

Yesterday's session was about finding Whispers of Love- Signs are Kiddos are still with us. Which I do believe in. Samalou gives me little signs everyday. 

Right now she is telling me not to be an a-hole about other people's grieving process. 

But this session seemed forced to me. And after slide 20 of a cloud that looked like a heart, I drifted a little. 

And then pulled myself back in and thought, how does this relate to me and my process?

It did a little, but not enough to embrace, to fully get behind or make me feel any more sure of my own journey. 

Which leaves me feeling a bit disappointed and thinking, No not this, this is not the answer.


I do know I cannot force it.....and I am really good at forcing things. 

You got a round peg that needs to fit in a square hole? Send it my way.

Maybe I will never find it- my own Creed on how to move through the world with my newly seasoned loss. 

Maybe it is tiny- tiny breath, tiny gesture, simple beauty and pink sunrises. 

Huh.....maybe somedays I might be doing it. 

Somedays.