I thought there would be a better time to grieve.

A more appropriate time.

Maybe a longer more private time.

Or that it would make itself more obvious.

Things would “slow down”.

Or I would, somehow, just feel it.

Potentially even a break down.

“There would always be a better time”.

I put it on a shelf.

Maybe I was afraid it would be too much…

Possibly it would overtake me.

Over a year ago I heard the words…

he is gone…

Those three words..I have been afraid of hearing most of my life.

And so, as absolutely shocking as it was, that was all that I needed to hear, even though I questioned it over and over, and as my voice raised in volume each time as I rhetorically recited “what?!” until I was uncontrollably sobbing.

And then one day, almost exactly a year later, I realized… that the “time” to grieve was never coming… I started to ooze and it felt like salve and air and hope.

I don’t know why, exactly. I know that counseling is digging out reasons that I cannot share but I am grateful that I am growing and being freed. I am proud of myself for doing the work that goes unseen by most and I hope that others can see maybe one thing and do that for themselves as well. It is worth more than gold! And although I give a lot of credit to my counselor I have another Counselor that deserves it all! ❤️