Grief comes in waves. I’m standing in the ocean, waist deep, trying to stay upright, and it comes in waves and knocks me down.
I’m down for a while. Or sometimes it just knocks me off balance and I’m able to get back up.
But it always happens. In the 15 1/2 weeks since he died – there hasn’t been a single day where I haven’t been knocked on my ass at least once…
Except the last 3 days.
They’ve been good. I’ve been in a good mood. The waves have been more like little splashes, barely noticeable. I’ve been doing well and enjoying life and living in the moment.
I thought I saw the wave coming last night… but it passed by with just a gentle nudge.
I’m scared of the wave I can’t see. I’ve been knocked over an stuck under the water so deep I was drowning… and I’m scared of that happening again.
I’m trying to just enjoy these good moments…. but I’m scared of how far down the grief will knock me.
I’ve been there. I’ve written a post about it (I’m Not Suicidal) and I’m scared to be there again.
In the meantime – I’m just going to ride the good mood wave… and try not to look too far ahead.
Tonight, it’s date night with one of my favourite redheads.