Grief is funny in a way.
It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I am standing in the living room getting ready to go outside to do chores and admire last night's snowfall~~~
The house is silent. I am silent. I'm waiting and I'm not sure why.
I feel like sitting couch and pulling a blanket over my head. If I do, perhaps I can blot out the day for a while.
There is a pain that travels through me and it takes me a moment or two to discover that it is my grief catching up to me. I don't want to cry, because I may not stop. It's cold outside and the mules need feeding.
I'm literally stuck and cannot move. Do I cry and get my face wet then go out in the frigid air and freeze my cheeks? No. Just suck it up and take a breath.
Then go out and feed the animals and carry warm water to our little pony.
For some reason the frigid air and winds blow away the grief as my mind is on what I am doing and not what I had been thinking -- or not thinking.
I finish with the girls and then open the porch door and ask Charlie if he wants to go for a walk. Of course he does. We wander the neighbor's beat up forest and meander our way towards the road on the ridge. There is mail to be collected.
By the time we get back to the house, the grief has gone. Well, that is
until I get back inside a very quiet house with no one to greet me.
I sigh and then decide to start another project. Something that will take all of my concentration. The waves will return when I least expect it.
That is okay, it is the way it is supposed to be.
I find that if I keep music playing in the house, it doesn't feel so empty.
