Normal Days

I just had a lovely phone chat with my dear sister Shanna, and in the course of our conversation I said, "I should probably write on normal days, too." She also thought that would be a good idea.

It helps a great deal, to pour out my heart in the hardest moments, but that doesn't give the whole picture. I want this blog to be a true representation of this journey, and not just a relentless hammering on the agony of the loss.

So, here I am, having sort of a normal morning.

I'm tired, because (surprise) I'm not sleeping well. We're working on that, trying different things. It's getting a little better, but I'm still tired. Along with all the other reasons for this, there is also a small, sweet dog who just misses me and decides that I need to be up. I should probably ask Lee to shut our bedroom door after he gets up, so I can sleep as long as I need to.

The pain of losing Michael never goes away, but it does shift to the background. Last night, I was grieving hard, and it was raw and all over the place. Writing about it helped. Sleep helped, even though I didn't get the hours I would have liked. A new day helps.

There's this thing that I think is very important. I have felt for a long time that it is morally wrong to victimize others by forcing horror or pain on them that they did not choose. For example, I think that people should be allowed to choose how fully informed they want to be about heart-breaking issues, like child-trafficking, genocide, and the abuse of children and animals. Forcing horrifying details onto other people, in my opinion, can be a form of emotional abuse. We don't know the private wounding of others, or their inner fragility. I really think it is wrong to assault others with images or knowledge that will cause trauma.

I feel similarly about my journey with grief.

Just because I am walking this unbelievably painful road, that does not give me the right to beat other people up with my suffering. I don't get to be rude or horrid to others, just because my life got really hard. I need to walk through this in a way that feels good and right to me.

I don't want to victimize others with my pain.

So, truly, there are days that just feel normal. Today, oddly, is one of them. Oddly, in light of the depth of my grieving yesterday.

This morning, I'm really okay.
This is a normal day.
I'm going to go start physical therapy on my shoulder. I'll do laundry. I'll take the dogs for a walk.

I am profoundly grateful for every one of you who grieves with me, with us, and for every bit of love and concern, and every single prayer uttered on our behalf.

I want you to know that while this road is supremely hard, there are also really normal moments and normal days. We do ordinary things and have ordinary conversations. We smile and laugh. We walk the dogs and plan meals.

We still have normal days.