The fresh tulips and daffodils I indulged myself in yesterday sit as bright and cheerful as ever on my table. Tulips have become Sully’s flower to me, a new love he has given me. I decided yesterday that for the rest of the year I would have tulips on my table if possible or that at least I would allow myself to purchase them during the monthly anniversary of his six days with us. I picture myself doing this ritualistically and find comfort in it.
This morning, the 11th, a weight lifted. It was such a noticeable contrast that it made me very conscious of just how heavy the past six days have been for me. Remembering Sully brings joy but also the ache of losing him, the ache of all he could not be. But today, my mind felt the freedom to go other places. I could look at the tulips beginning to open and cheery daffodils and smile without tears. A bit of guilt snuck in, but I banished it, hearing the words of a dear friend who walked through grief of her own reminding me that I must “be” in each moment I am given whether tears or smiles.
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1 comment:
glad the weight lifted - and you t banished the guilt. I'm repeating myself, but life force returns in waves just as grief hits in unexpected waves, smaller and farther apart with time. The life force waves get bigget and closer together. It's my belief that that's the way God made us, so we could incorporate our losses and go on to do good in the world.
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