Intense and Unpredictable, Grief Can Change the Course of Your Life
I longed for simplicity and dreamed of writing.
It’s hard to know what will help
When my father died at the end of 2020, grief pulled me under.
I remember comforting hugs from my husband and kids, heartfelt conversations with my brothers, and supportive calls and texts from friends and family.
Although it’s mostly a blur, one call stands out in my memory.
“It just f*cking sucks”
A loved one delivered this line of tender truth mixed with harsh reality.
I laughed through the tears. Her words touched me because she was speaking from experience. She held space for my heartache with her honesty.
For me, real and raw with a splash of colorful language worked, but this would tank for others.
“At least” tanked for me
I get it. It’s well-meaning and true. He was no longer suffering.
I was begging for the Great Beyond to take him home at the end. Relief seems like a reasonable assumption. But once he was gone, all I felt was pain.
I was 100% focused on him, and then in an instant, I was heartbroken. It was excruciating.
Nothing takes grief away
I leaned on loved ones, cried often, watched a ridiculous amount of tv, and attempted to work.
Meanwhile:
The pandemic raged.
My son had a freak accident that required significant medical treatment.
My husband and I became empty nesters.
A few more big and difficult things — you get the idea.
I did the only thing I could do and waved a white flag.
Life had gotten out of control
When my daughter was little in the early 2000s, there was an online art game where you could decorate a blank canvas with shapes, colors, squiggles, and stamps.
It quickly became creative chaos, but along with the decorating tools, there was a stick of dynamite. When you needed a fresh start, you’d drag it over the masterpiece, and BOOM! All clear.
My life felt like an overdecorated canvas, and I longed for simplicity.
I dropped a stick of dynamite on my career
After a rewarding decade as an entrepreneur in physical therapy, yoga, meditation, and anatomy teaching, I stopped all of it.
It was time to get away from the computer and out of the house. I found a part-time job with excellent benefits at my local library, and I began to write. It sounds like pie in the sky, but my dream is to write about being human in a way that helps people suffer less and love more.
It’s a simple dream and a new adventure
I’m eternally grateful for the people who patiently ushered me back to function.
Now I spend my days surrounded by books or writing my heart onto a page.
Who am I to fight the dream?
Photo by Ali Satchu in Canva
