My father died 4 years ago, this month. Grief is a strange animal, and assuredly inconsistent. I wasn’t home because I had the Thursday, what do I wear to the holiday office party, to attend. That was a fun evening and I learned about myself, again. A diverse group of substantive individuals can be enjoyable. No one took themselves too seriously, with this group that was close to impossible, so it wasn’t what they looked like or wore that mattered. It was owning a good sense of self, trust in friends and colleagues and staying in the moment that made the evening memorable.  

I yawned my way through the following day, Friday, and only paid attention to the cause when I had to consider getting ready to go out with friends. I was in no shape to go out, the yawning was my body and mind telling me to take it easy, and listen. Looking at the memorial candle I lit in my father’s commemoration, I broke down and cried. There are years I hold it together and honestly don’t feel the emotional tug as hard. Then there are the times it takes my breath away. It is Monday morning and I still feel emotional, heavy, tired, enervated.

Today will be a slow day because it must. I give myself the space I need and get done what I am able. I feel lonely without the people I miss. This too shall pass, I am aware, but it hasn’t yet. Phone calls, errands, food shopping and laundry will get done. While I don’t want to give my emotions full say on the day, I don’t want to disregard them either. Balance, balance of mind, body, feeling, spirit. I don’t like to feel this way but I cannot ignore my own age, time of life, aches and pains, kids growing up and leaving, all the normal processes of life. Sometimes they are exhilarating and exciting, sometimes they are exhausting and hit hard. Today, I’m hard hit.