I keep pacing back and forth in the grieving place. My head hurts and I need to do the washing up. This morning I ate my scrambled eggs with a spoon because all four forks were in the sink. There’s an assignment due next week and I can’t find the words to put to paper. I can’t find my watch either.
We had no unfinished business. She knew I loved her as my own mother and I knew she loved me as another daughter. That was her way and she helped me to find mine. What more could anyone ask but for that respect, that recognition, and that love. I am so fortunate, and I know it.
Even now when look inside I am full, not empty. Is grief supposed to be like that? When I hear the small still voice within I find great joy in that moment, even in the moments in the grieving place.