Standing in the grasslands with my once-in-a-lifetime grief

Grasslands under a stormy sky. Photo by Matthew Smith on Unsplash

My work has slowed for the summer months. While that gives me plenty of time to work on the plethora of side projects that were left on the back burner, it also gives me too much time with my thoughts.

The last few weeks I’ve been plowing through, finding a surprising amount of joy in life — as long as I wasn’t thinking about my mom. I think a few people did double-takes, expecting me to be crippled with grief, but pushing through is in my wheelhouse. 

I’ll start sentences “My mom has …” Correction: “My mom had ….” and then I’ll correct myself internally, attempting to give myself grace and allowances. The things she had and did are my dad’s hands now and he’d be the first to tell you that they were as much hers as they ever were. I told myself after she passed that I would talk about her in the first person as long as it felt right. It is my grief afterall. 

See the full story here.