daily grief

Even though I don’t talk about it as much as I used to, my grief still looms large. I really like the grief model with the idea that you learn to grow around your grief. I resonate with that fully. I feel that at first my grief was my entire existence. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started learning how to allow myself to feel other feelings alongside the grief. Over the past 3 years since Oscar died I have become so much bigger than I ever was before- energetically. I feel like my energetic footprint takes up at least twice as much space as it did before I began to grow around my grief.

Doesn’t change the fact that sometimes, some days, there will be some sort of catalyst event and I am moved straight to tears. My grief swallows my energy and I am in that darkness without. The sucking without-my-beautiful-boy darkness. I love Angela Miller (A bed for my heart) and how she speaks strongly about how, as a bereaved mama, you learn to mother not only your living children, but the ones who have died, as well. I deeply resonate with that truth. Every. day.

Yesterday, at lunch, in the middle of the employee lounge, I am eating my leftover hungry root (just started that meal delivery service and so far it has been an excellent experience- I’ve tried many and this one is my favorite) focused on staying balanced and focused with my Kangaroo totem energy and the green calcite in my pocket along with my doTerra Citrus Bliss mixed with Frankincense aromatherapy and I open Facebook. There is a memory from 6 years ago of my sweet sweet daughter, Vivian, and her pink kitchen. Her pink kitchen was her very favorite toy for about 3 years or so and when we moved from Washington to Kansas it was a very very big deal when it was finally shipped to us. It was about 6 months after she moved down here that she was reunited with it. Of course I took a picture of her with it as soon as it was unpacked! Well, there was a comment from her dad. Grief started rolling in. There was a like on the comment and I clicked to see who liked it. Oscar. The tears just started. Just like that. Thank God my dear friend, Emily, was sitting at the same table. I showed her what was up and she scooted close to me, gave me a big hug and I had a few seconds of sobbing. My grief overwhelmings don’t usually suck as much time out of my day as they used to, but only because I have learned how to breathe through them. I breathe through them, feel them and consciously shield them with my entire self. It has taken a tremendous amount of diligent spirit work to get to where I am in my relationship with my grief.

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