Friday, October 30, 2020


I debated between a glass of wine and a decaf coffee.  While inside the house is warm, it is 36 degrees outside and a cup of something warm seemed to be a better fit.  I walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet.  The mugs we have for after our meat meals are black on the outside with a primary color on the inside.  I tilt each cup down until I find the red, today it only took 4 tries.  There are little representations of her all around me.  I wonder if that is why that in a place she has never been inside of, I feel closest to her when I am here, at Bear Pines.

We don't have anything of hers specifically here, but there is something about being here that makes reality nonexistent and my ability to cope with her loss easier.  There are bears and red accents all around, there is a warmth inside that I know is from her influence, but without the specific memories and flashback of her physical presence because she hasn't ever been here.  I can't go into her bedroom in Phoenix, but I have found this place to be my mental compromise and escape, a place where I can feel closer to her, but the reality of her life and death isn't right in my face.  Gosh, this whole grief journey is really complicated.

I put together the NBA Jam arcade game in the game room today.  Her sisters were in there laughing while playing on it, having what sounded to be a great time and the song "I see the light" from Tangled was playing on Alexa,.  Then there was some tsunami of a perfect storm around me because it was the first time in almost 9 months their laughter brought me to tears.  I had never understood why I was previously told statements such as, it is okay to laugh, it is okay to smile, it is okay to have a good time.  It was the first time their happiness felt unfair, out of place, unjust, and it was yet another surprise wall slam on this grief journey.  While I wonder if it is considered a new low to be using a Swiffer vacuum and finding yourself in tears I am sure there are going to be more of these lows.  At least while I am here, attempting to escape the reality of grief, even when it finds a way to seep in, there is always something related to the house's namesake in nearby view that helps to fill my lungs with air and help me moving forward.

And the world has somehow shifted
All at once, everything is different


The Mighty Contributor

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