Grief and I had a nodding acquaintance before. I lost my grandparents, several aunts, cousins and my dad. I wasted the chance for learning and growing with the grandparents. I wanted nothing to do with death and funerals, so I did not go.
The death of my dad hit hard. He died suddenly. I went into survival mode and then pushed away emotions. I did not allow myself to mourn.
Through the years I have lost colleagues. This past year I lost one whom I had known for almost 30 years. For him, I was able to sit and hold his hand, though he was not conscious. I touched death and did not flinch. I wanted to be strong for him, I wanted to help.
I began this blog and vowed to write every day as a tribute to you. (Except for the days I was hospitalized, I accomplished that goal.) I used writing as a safety valve, releasing pressure when I thought I would go insane.
Without the help of friends (some help totally unexpected but oh so welcome), I am not sure how I would have made it through the year.
Connie calls almost every day. She makes sure I get out. Others offered words of encouragement, some of which came at just the right time.
A couple of new friends mourn along with me and opened up their hearts. We pull each other along the road to healing. I am thankful.
My reactions are honest though maybe not logical. Some chose to ignore me, some chose to condemn me. No matter.
I miss you no less, but sorrow loosens its vice-like grip on me. I begin to breathe once again.
Thanks, Dude.
Later.
