friday i'm in love...

the truth is
i have had a hard time
doing a
friday i’m in love
since mom…

it feels wrong
and i know that’s wrong,
i know the whole
she would want you to be happy,
she would want, she wouldn’t want…
but i also
can’t help feeling
how i feel.

grief is a like a ball
you have to carry
and it’s covered in
bits of sharp razor
and shards of glass
but also wrapped in
feathers and soft bits of fluff
so you don’t know where sharp parts are
and it’s sticky and slippery
and so heavy
it’s hard to carry some days
and other days,
it feels lighter but
you know that’s not going to last
and you are trying to carry
it quietly and act like a normal person
but then you realize
someone has stuffed it full of
jingly jangly bells
or now it is suddenly randomly
screeching like a car alarm
and
you
don’t
know
how to
make it
stop
and you are afraid everyone is looking you,
at the person who can’t control her grief,
who can’t be quiet about it,
who can’t let go of it,
but also when it’s quiet,
you are afraid people think you
stopped caring…stopped hurting…

it’s such a strange place.
i can’t say i like it here.

But at the same time…
I know that I have to
do the things I have always done…
maybe especially on the days I don’t feel like it.

So here are a few things I have loved:

♥ sticker books. I found some older ones that I just realized have stickers in them that I can use in my journals which has now made me look for sticker books whenever I go to the dollar store and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me.

♥ craft fairs with best friends…this has made me so happy…and I got these adorable Grinch decorations!

♥ also at craft fairs…Tide and Tallow…I am OBSESSED.
i LOVE the face tallow, the body butters, the facial oils…
the scents are to die for and my skin feels so soft and happy.

also can I have this sauna please?

I hope you have a happy Friday…
and if you are carrying something heavy,
I hope you are finding the feathery parts
and not the razors.
♥

the truth is...

I feel lost in the land of in-between.
I am trying to make sense
of life without my mom…
while still processing life without my dad…

The strange thing about loss…
loss so big and gaping and bloody
that sometimes
I feel like my insides
must be on the outside,
that I must be dragging my
broken cracked heart behind me
by a vein…
there is no way all of this is happening
inside of me…
but the strange thing is
regular life keeps moving.

And you have to, too.

And you know this…you know you do.
You know why you know?
Because after dad, your mom sat you down
and said “you have to get back out there,
you have to go on adventures, you have to do silly things,
dad wouldn’t want this, dad loved your adventures.”

So I did.
Even when my heart wasn’t in it, I did it
because I didn’t want mom to worry about me.

But there is no one here now to tell me that now.
No one that I would listen to.
The logical side of my brain tells me
what mom would say
but the illogical side of my brain is louder
right now. It won’t always be.
But right now, it’s winning.

All this to say, that I am going to try.
To accept joy, to find my spark,
to live the life I have left
with wonder and excitement and silliness
alongside the memories and the
moments of heartbreaking sadness/loneliness/grief…
I will try…so mom doesn’t worry about me.

sundays

the truth is
sundays
will now always be
the hardest
of the days.
not only because
we lost you on a
sunday
but
because
sundays
were always
"out home"
days…
mom and dad days…
and then just mom days
and now…
i don’t know what to
do
with myself
on sundays…
the hardest of the days.

trying...💔

I’m trying. It’s been 3 weeks. Soon to be 4.
When do I stop counting, marking the days, the hours.
I keep thinking I have to remember to tell her,
to call her, that she’ll laugh when I say this…
and then I remember. So I’m trying.

Trying to find the words.
Trying to find the reason.
Trying to find the light.
Trying to find the hope…
the laughter…the joy…

It all feels muted though…
and gray.
No color, no light.
Sunshine and no sun.
……………………………………..

It is a strange business
this enterprise called grief.
It is both numbing
and also roughshod rumbling tumbling like rocks in my heart
and then all of a sudden
it eats you up
in one gulp
without chewing hard enough
to kill you
but just hard enough to make
you feel the pain of your
empty bones being
crunched
your now hollow heart
gnawed upon…
teeth marks on your soul
and then —
it spits you out.

Sweaty and salty and slick with tears
but it taunts and promises of its non-negotiable fucking return
because we are not done yet
it whispers and then it
slithers away
It sinks into the shade and waits.
For the lull of normality.
It waits.