I took the dog for a drive this morning along the October-colored country roads. Even though there’s a distinct chill in the air, I cracked all of the windows and watched Waggs in the rearview mirror as she inhaled as much of the countryside as she could. I breathed deeply, attempting to do the same. I caught the fading scent of the grapevines and the richer smells of leaves and dirt; the vibrant colors of the sugar maples stole away the attention of my eyes. I was grateful for a moment of peace and a little space in my crowded mind. Since losing Lucy, I have tried to give myself permission to be open to new things; whatever makes me happy in the moment or feels right is what I should go with. I’ve always had an eclectic musical taste, though I do have my car favorites. I’ve been trying out new random radio stations on my drives, so if it feels right, I don’t change the dial. Not always a country music fan, I typically skim past, I stopped on a station… the song playing was Kenny Chesney’s “Don’t Blink”. It struck an emotional nerve as I listened to the lyrics… it’s really a great song, and made the all-to-relevant lesson I’ve recently learned about life and loss glaringly louder and clearer. It made me think about how quickly my life is going to continue to pass, and how I need to embrace the importance of living authentically. Of course I also found myself feeling the now familiar longing ache for my little daughter; I swallowed the lump in my throat and let the warm tears flood down my cheeks, as I thought of how she won’t ever live the quick hundred years that pass by in such a blink. Today the tears felt cleansing. It’s getting a little easier as time passes, but when that hurt sets in, no matter how fleetingly, it leaves quite a wake it it’s path through my heart. I’m trying to remain an ‘optimistic griever’ (see this article) I know that life will continue and that I will feel joy again someday. For me, the ultimate goal is to make the most of my life to honor Lucy. That’s the most important thing in the world to me. The idea that her gentle spirit is leaving little signs behind for me in the butterflies, dragonflies, and hearts is such a warm comfort to my broken heart. If her sweet soul could possibly be doing those things for me, of course she would want me to live well too; she wouldn’t want her mommy to be sad. Whether thoughts like that make me crazy or not, I will remain open to them and look to feel a lifelong connection with Lucy. On my ‘good’ days, it is easy to make that vow and try to do my best to live well. On the bad days, it definitely requires some work and tough love. I’m finding that the more productive and busy I am, the better my days have become. Lucy is on my mind pretty much at all times, but I’m finally at a point where I can feel okay about doing other things besides grieve. The best thing for me to do is just keep taking one step after another. By the way, Waggs and I are getting in nearly 4 miles a day with our walks! It feels good to be moving every day. I’m doing it for our Lucy!
My appointment with my therapist went well again today; she’s really helped me to put this grief journey in perspective, as hard as it is. She told me it looked like I had a sparkle in my eye today, that there was a much more positive vibe about me. I was taken by surprise by that, but I realized that maybe I’m doing okay with moving ahead. I’m looking forward to going back to work and having a greater purpose. I’m finding ways to share and be honest and authentic about my thoughts and feelings (yes, the delivery or way I share could use some tweaking probably, but hey I’m trying), I’m able to smile more, and suddenly, I feel okay about being out in public on my own now. The fear and vulnerability isn’t totally gone, but it’s definitely diminishing. I have to say that I am proud of myself for making it through each day with optimism still remaining in my heart, as tough as that is sometimes.