I’ve always been rather low-key when dealing with holidays. For instance, in the winter, I prefer the soft warm glow of a Christmas Eve luminaria display over a month of electric glare. But I didn’t expect the whammy that this year brought—even before Thanksgiving. Last year, my loss was fresh, still front-and-center in my attention.Continue reading “Second Year Blues”
Tag Archives: grief
After a Long Silence
It has been a beautiful fall, with trees holding their leaves. We had several near or at freezing nights and finally, yesterday morning, a harder freeze. True to their nature, the mulberry trees began their drip drip drip of big leaves piling up beneath trees and on nearby sidewalks. Walking Sophie, I had to leadContinue reading “After a Long Silence”
Going for Change
My life has felt stuck for many months. This second year of loss has been, in ways, more challenging than the first. You can excuse a lot about what you’re doing, or not doing, that first year. But right now I’m tired of being in limbo, yet finding it really hard to break out. OneContinue reading “Going for Change”
Lost Anchors
For the past several days, I’ve been trying to identify a coherent theme for this week’s blog, This morning, a friend, her grief fresher than my own, said, “I feel like I’ve lost my anchor.” That was it exactly! She too had a husband with dementia, and had been making the decisions for them both.Continue reading “Lost Anchors”
Adapting to new realities
My apricot tree rarely produces a bumper crop, but it does its best to produce at least a few fruits each year. This year’s February and March were months of widely varying weather. The apricot’s first buds appeared at the beginning of March, what amazes me is that they continued to appear. Even now, withContinue reading “Adapting to new realities”
Blue
In her journals, Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote about her grief in losing her first born child —the famous Lindbergh baby kidnapping. She spoke of focusing on high-reaching objects (I don’t remember specifically what) but I picture trees or mountains. And in fact, I’ve done a lot of looking up this past year, but recently IContinue reading “Blue”
Winter is icumen in
to paraphrase an old song, but there are no cuckoos to loudly sing in this cold season. And yet, I bought a frost cover for my as-yet-unplanted Earth box. I’m waiting for a warm, encouraging day to put out a few experimental seeds. Sophie’s wonderful groomer retired, putting me in charge of her baths. She’sContinue reading “Winter is icumen in”
Awakenings
The Texas Red Oak in my front yard clings to its leaves long after other trees stand bare. Lately, those leaves have appeared on the back patio. Somehow the wind plucks them, carries them over the house and dumps the load. I’ll sweep up one batch, and if there’s a wind, a new, neatly sculptedContinue reading “Awakenings”
What ifs
If I were to say anything about grief (or my current stage thereof), it’s that connecting with other people helps the griever feel real. Every face-to-face, heart-to-heart encounter is something I am grateful for. Such encounters are happening more often, maybe because I recognize and welcome the healing they provide. Taking Sophie for a walkContinue reading “What ifs”
Mindfulness vs Mind–Fullness.
It’s been a month since I wrote a blog. Often these days, my mind acts as a sieve, thoughts of what I should be doing flow out almost before they register. Meanwhile, my should-do list keeps growing longer. I’m told it’s the brain fog of grief. A few months back, I blogged about my tricksterContinue reading “Mindfulness vs Mind–Fullness.”
Kate Harrington 