I have felt a little stuck lately on what to write about. This blog is definitely about grief and the day to day, but I don't want to be giving advice, I wanted to talk about walking the walk, how the journey continues and at times I have found that a particularly hard thing to do (write about it, and walk it).
There are all different types of coping methods to make the grief manageable and at times you need to change them, reinvest in them because the grief changes as does the journey.
Flynn died 8 years ago in May, but right now, where I am in my journey, this all feels surreal. Not like the shock of the news in 2002 but more like an old movie that I have not watched in a long time, where at times I forget a good deal of the plot and only snippets can be pulled from the recesses of my brain. I am not forgetting Flynn and I am not afraid of that, after all I would not have veered off my life path, to who I am today, if it were not for his birth, but I am somewhere where I do not need to touch the pain of him as often. I am at peace with his notable absence from my everyday and as with all movements in the grief journey it is not static, what I am comfortable with on year 8 may look very different on year 10.
I encounter my grief everyday because it became a part of my life a long time ago, but right now it tends to be like the one breath in a day that I hold for a second before letting it out. A thought of my grandmother's hands or a flicker of Montreal with my friend or the weight of a heavy arm, warm and tangible under Flynn's weight. Just a second and then it is gone and in the past it would be followed by hours of sorrow or pulling at memories, right now it is followed by a small smile as I move through the rest of my day. I am comfortable with my grief, if I need it, it is there to remind me, to ground me, but here in year 8, in my journey it is in the peripheral and not in the road straight ahead.