There is a man in dirty jeans and sweat stained shirt, talking on the phone and holding a stop sign. He is balanced on one leg, his heavy work boot planted firmly in the center of my chest. His name is Grief.
I realized today that I expect myself to do this whole grieving thing gracefully. Puffy eyes and snotty nose are acceptable but anger and jealousy are not. Once again I am holding myself to impossible standards. I am afraid that being wholly human – i.e. having ugly parts, ugly feelings – will make me unlovable. That is an old fear and I have a feeling that letting go of it will be one of Benjamin’s gifts to me. One of my gifts to myself. Which means I have to risk being ugly and unlovable and out of control. I have to risk being me.
Sending my love and gratitude to Mynde and Laurel for holding space for my grief with compassion today, for helping me see fear in a different light, and for reminding me to trust the process.