Lost and Found

I've been losing things lately. Actually, that is one reason I haven't posted anything for a long while. Yep, lost my computer. My purse, my favorite sunglasses, my dad's bike, my favorite jacket, deleted all of my music off of my ipod... I've since recovered most of the material items. But have been thinking a bit about this problem. I know mom and I are both still pretty detached from reality. We talked recently about how we are both still in denial--I catch myself thinking constantly, "can it be that he's really gone? as in he's really not coming back?" my poor little brain cannot fathom that, so back to the moment I go and away I float. My loss of material items is almost a reflection of the greater losses in my life. And yet, i have learned that material items have little value in that they are replaceable (of course the things that were my dad's I'd really rather keep). Perhaps these losses should provide me with a wake-up call: I forget, sometimes, how i am utterly immersed in grief, even if I am having fun and enjoying my life in the meantime. I have this huge weight to carry, and I forget that part of my energy, part of my brain, and a huge part of my life are consumed, daily, by this grief. It's not a bad thing, it just is.

Mom and I are doing the best we can. We had a wonderful day on her birthday, April 14. I made breakfast, then off for a leisurely hike up Sand Canyon. We found a beautiful spot to sit and eat lunch. And of course the conversation turned to dad. We laughed, cried, shared in our missing him. And we agreed that he was proud of us and what we were doing that day. In a way, I feel like I honor him every time I venture out into nature, it meant so much to him. We really enjoyed each other, and that is so refreshing when we have so much stress on our relationship. It is fun to watch mom's recovery as she climbs back on the bike, and back into her hiking boots. Away we go! I am so proud of her:) In a way, that day, we found our relationship--for a moment. But however brief those moments are, we treasure them, and they will grow.

SO back to the counselor I have gone, and it feels good to acknowledge that I still need HELP! 9 months later, it is still fresh. I wonder if it will ever begin to ease, and yet it has begun. I find relief in nature, in activity, from friends. I have never before realized the extent to which we need one another. Friends can be family. Our friends have lifted my mother and I up from our "dark holes" as I like to refer to the darkest moments of depression and grief. Sometimes you just need a little nudge, a little movement, something to get that inertia back. Sometimes, I need to be picked up and held. Sometimes mom and I are able to do that for each other. Sometimes it is asking too much. But always, we are surrounded by a network of love and support. I feel the energy, being back in colorado, of all the caring of the community. And I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to see such good in humanity. So this began as a brief reflection, and is ending in a thank you. Thank you for listening, for the hugs, the smiles--even the smallest positive interaction can change my entire day. Thank you for your support and for being my teachers and friends and family.