Rest Stops on the Journey

Sometime last year (probably right about this time) I was so numb and grief stricken that I actually googled "What to do when you're lost." Now I look back and can truly laugh. It was not funny at the time. My reality so distorted that I was desperate for direction and unable to make meaning of anything.

I believe that the hard work during this journey is finding the meaning for yourself. The grinding pain, while exhausting, can be transformative. I am a different person than the woman I was when Tom passed away in my arms. I know - in the deepest sense of knowing - that life is surely fleeting. I know that money, things, success are meaningless. I know that the vital stuff life is made of are the smallest of everyday things - a small smile shared across a room, a hot bowl of oatmeal shared on a cold morning, a hug from behind, dancing in the kitchen, sharing a cup of tea while listening to music, a cocktail after work shared at the kitchen counter.

I know that healing on the journey is a choice - there were times when I put Tom's picture away for a while because it tore my heart out of my chest everytime I looked at it. Grief in year two is still an everyday companion - sometimes it catches you unaware and momentarily brings you to your knees. Year two also brings times of blessed relief - rest stops. The transformation continues.