A friend suggested that what some of us go through is a “slow grief.” I think that is true. I try to hurry it along but it lingers there just out of view. Yesterday driving back from seeing Lee I wished for it to be just three months ago. When I could still take him past places he remembered. He doesn’t even remember me now. And all things considered that is probably a good thing. With the little strength he has he would maybe cling to me to take him away.
And whatever I would show him to see his response has changed. The curve and hill with the pasture full of sheep that he always got ready for is sheepless….now just weeds and an overgrown barn. The “bad girl cows” who only once escaped across the road into lush lawns are now kept where they belong because of a mended fence. The pond where we always looked for geese is being drained by the property owners. All changes in the last few months.
Changes can happen so quickly and the grief those changes cause just loiters there in the doorway of looking backwards.
I stay away from those who think it kind to say something nice about what is beyond that door of not so long ago. I don’t do well with public displays of sympathy. I have a box full of all the cards of caring words. I put them in there as soon as I wipe my face and am so grateful that those friends chose this method of being kind. A private kindness that allows me to miss what was, grieve and then close the box. Thank you for that. To be honest “slow grief” is in no hurry to move along.
But I am working on distractions.
We now have three tiny fawns visiting. Lee always loved seeing the rabbits down where the deer are fed.
The other morning on the Riverwalk. The start of a beautiful day.
So many Canadian geese.
And these reminding me to keep moving, follow the signs.
And I follow them. Back over the bridge.
Past the bergamot
and into my car to head for the coffee shop, where I order a skim milk lavender latte.
Work in the studio and then the start of another day…