I always tell others that grief doesn’t have a schedule. And that’s true. I just want to move on, but at the moment I am nearly always in a state of high anxiety. Anything can set it off; anything to do with him, at least.
Our pastor at least got me to shed a few tears on Sunday with a few well chosen, kind and meaningful words. Meaningful is important; there was nothing empty or generic in what he said. He didn’t know my uncle, but he knows me, and that’s enough.
My son is doing better. He was hospitalized, diagnosed with OCD and major depressive disorder. The ripple effect. My daughter feels sick nearly every night and has stress hives breaking out all over her body, all while getting to work every day and taking very good care of her children.
My granddaughter turned 8 today! We all took part in making sure she had a good day, and I am glad my daughter is making happy memories with her children.
And I’m all over the place. Some days are better than others. I really look forward to a time when most days are better than others.
Until then? I try to remember to breathe, and to remember what I’ve said so many times to others. Grief doesn’t have a done date. It just is.