Grief is a Bear.

bear

So there’s been some changes since my last post. Although I’m not sure it’s safe to call them improvements.

The other day, I woke up actually feeling somewhat normal – meaning I didn’t wake up with eyes so puffy I couldn’t see. At some point I came across a person (a cashier? I don’t even remember) who was going super slow and I could’ve choked them out. I managed to keep my feelings reigned-in, but I wonder if they know how close they were to experiencing a choke-hold.

And then I cried in the car.

I’m not what you would call an emotional person. Yeah, I experience them, but one of my gifts is being able to place them in proper compartments and deal with them when the time is right.  These days, I am an emotional roller-coaster without seatbelts.

It’s been a week. 

Not a massive amount of time, but enough that some of the pressure should be dialed back a bit, right? As surprised as I was about Chewy’s death, I am floored by how much it has effected me. In no way was I expecting him to live forever. He was eleven. We even discussed the potential scenario should one of the dogs go and what that would be like.

Yet, I was side-blinded.

The kids aren’t fully recovered either, although it seems like they have bounced back quicker. My daughter has moments of breakdowns, as does my son, but he’s taken a more sentimental approach. We celebrated his birthday last weekend. The day of Chewy’s death, he asked if his party could also be a Celebration of Life party. What 8-year-old does that?

Last night, he crawled into our room. As he lay, half asleep, I apologized to him for how I’ve been lately and I explained that I’m still having a hard time with everything. He nodded and without hesitation said, “I realize that. You usually give us 11 or 12 chances and lately you’ve only given us 10.”

That made me smile.

I suppose I need to hold onto these small moments and remember them when I feel like I’m slipping. If grief is a bear, then it’s got a hold on me. I can feel it wrapped around me, holding just a little too tightly. Sometimes I just want to sit back and feel the weight of it. And others, I just want to shake free of its grasp.

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