It’s not much.

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Valley of the Temple | Photo Credit: M.M.
“Hi, mama, I miss you. I miss you every day.”

That’s all I could bring myself to say whenever I get to visit her before I break into tears.

It’s been six years and the grieving hasn’t stopped.
It never will.
It’s a part of me,
but it doesn’t paralyze me anymore.

Year after year I thought I read enough books about grief and studied the five stages in hopes of managing my emotions down to a science.

It was helpful in some ways in terms of gaining knowledge and self-awareness, however,
I noticed that I burdened myself with so many tangible steps of how to move forward.
My thoughts ran back and forth like this,
“I should go out so I can feel happy and celebrate life because life is too short.
But all I want to do is lay here and cry, but I can’t allow myself to do that because that means I’ve failed back into this rut that I worked so hard to get out of.
I should go out.
But I just don’t have the energy to do that right now.
But I should.”
I trapped myself into my own introverted game.
I made it harder on myself by that word should and the whispers and paces of others.

It took a while to block it out and it’s still a daily reminder to do so.

I learned that taking a day to deeply feel and cry from missing her doesn’t mean that I’ve crumbled back to step one.
It’s just another step
to feeling human and alive
knowing that I was loved by her
and she is still loved by all.

At times like this I noticed that what’s best for me is to keep the day simple for my own health and well-being:

  • Breathe.
  • Feel everything.
  • Be.
  • Keep breathing.
And with that the day rolls out to its perfect self.

How do you keep the day simple for you?

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It’s not much.