I was in two minds about posting it, as I judge myself imagining people to roll their eyes and think "she should be over it by now."
Here's the thing though, you don't, there is no "over it now.". Yes, it changes. Some moments I smile and laugh, consider a future, and some times the harshness of grief punches and slaps. It is true, that it is about trying to live when you simply don't want to.
Last year, I was forcing myself to "get over it." Now, I'm taking a step forward as I slow down to embrace everything that fills my soul. Everything that inspires me, softens me, shapes and guides through slow easy breathing - not grasping and barking. I have never been that person. Money and power of identity has always been the rabbit hole to nothing for me. In fact, reacting to those false voices was the biggest mistake I made in my caring during his illness.
This is always going to be a very important part of me, and perhaps there is something simple and brave that I can do with these lessons. I know he showed me, in sickness and in health, that I could love - and boy do I enjoy embracing that!
There is a picture of David, sitting cross legged on a dock by the water. Ironically enough, it is the same sitting position that I saw him in, when they opened the ambulance doors as he arrived at the nursing home in July.
I have often thought of that moment - and wondered how he had traveled back to a time where he felt in control and safe. He talked and wrote a lot about a sense of "home." I guess, the key relevance for a child of adoption.
Perhaps that is what we all search for - our home.
".....it is a place from where one can go out and slay dragons, practice ones craft. It is like going to a well, for drink, for wishing, for the nourishing of heart and soul....."
With love x