living

Today had all the makings of a bad day.  Mittens that felt funny, bloody noses, last minute bathroom trips.  Slowly things started to turn around. 

 

It's a terribly blustery day today.  I love terribly blustery days.

 

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On Saturday, as I was leaving home to run some errands, I got a call from a girlfriend.  She was at a thrift store. Could I come and look at a dining room set she found?  Was it different-cool or different-yuck?  It was different-wonderful.  Also, these chairs were there.  So I brought them home to my little old lady living room.

 

 

When my dad died, I felt the need to make all sorts of drastic life changes.  We did not move.  I did not get a face tattoo.  But we did get a dog.  I looked for Naida the Scottie.

But couldn't find her.  But I did find him...

 

 



 

Scotty the Schnauzer.

 

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chutes and ladders

 

I'm learning that grief is a little bit like chutes and ladders.  The process isn't all forward.  It's up and down and backwards.  Just when you think you've walked ahead, it comes up behind you and grabs you by the throat.  There is no mercy.  It is crying through an entire church service.  It is blinking fast away the tears in the coffee drive-thru because you couldn't switch the radio fast enough. 

 

It's having a conversation about your loved one and thinking the entire time, "I can't believe I can do this with out crying."  It's smiling.  And laughing.  And laughing so hard you start to cry but then can't stop crying. 

 

It's going about a regular day.  And then another.  And then one where you stay under the covers all day with your iphone. 

 

It's feeding your family sandwiches.  For breakfast and lunch and dinner.  Because your brain doesn't always kick on.  It's also pizza, spaghetti, pizza, spaghetti, cereal, cereal, cereal.

 

It's one foot in front of the other.  Taking all those next steps until you reach a ladder or a slide.  And you think you can pick which one you would prefer, but it doesn't work that way.