Watercolor and Out of Focus:Morning Reflection on Grief

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It's been two years since I lost my partner,my son's father  and there is no road- map or rule book on how to do this. How to live, grieve,move-on, remember, reflect, and raise your child. And rarely is there anyone you can really talk to about it. Let's keep it all the way real, in these austere times, therapy is definitely a luxury. Most of us are doing it on sheer willpower alone.

Being a mere plebe its crazy how alone you can  feel in this experience. Alone, despite the fact, there are plenty young mothers raising the children of  deceased fathers in my city.

But such is the nature of the beast called grief, it can swallow reason sometimes. So despite the fact that my mind tells me not to relive the events of this season, two years  ago, I do anyway.

I've been thinking a lot about intentions lately. Color me self-righteous but its a gospel I want to preach to a lot of Christians.This lady that works at a Walgreens near me, recently made a comment she thought I didn't hear. One wondering where my child's father is, sad, you don't ever see him. It wasn't what she said, really, it was how she said it that made all the difference. It was her intention that made all the difference.

Later that same day, I thought about my own misguided intentions, and how easy it is to get my feelings hurt. I threw myself a pity party and wallowed in muck of the mistakes grief can cause us to make. I am my harshest critic and sometimes I can uncharitably rip myself a new one. I guess it is that stubborn Catholic part of me that won't go away.

Original sin,guilt, call it one or the other, it's all the same.

I am a Crab, a Cancer to the bone, this is the way I operate. I retreat, hibernate, go underground when I need to. But the wonderful thing is we can definitely have fun in our caves. I am emerging with a positive vibe and good intentions. A little hibernation can be cathartic.

 I haven't been writing much,but I been stewing and I'm ready to share. Last year, I was afraid to be alone. This year I know I am not.

A little bit sacred a lot profane...

what's a life with no fun?

Enjoy...

Love,

Gypsy