How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. ~ Winnie the Pooh
The funny thing about losing a loved one, is at a time you should be swaddled in a quilt of self-care, you’re forced to hit the ground running.
There’s calls to make, family to console. A steady stream of well-meaning well-wishers weave a compassionate cocoon. For a brief moment, you feel protected, supported, loved.
Then there’s the lawyer, the undertaker, the candlestick maker. The obit, the banker, weigh me down like an anchor.
Adrenaline replaces the blood in your body. All decisions, documents, and appointments are done on autopilot. You’re taking care of business like a zombie boss.
Bring on the meat and cheese platters, the casserole brigades. These feelings aren’t going to eat themselves. Sauvignon Blanc and sleep aids cradle me like a baby.
A beautiful caravan of flowers flow in. Yellow roses for Scott, sunflowers and gerbera daisies for Abby, stargazer lilies for me. How did they know they’re our favourites?
People genuinely want to help, continually asking what they can do. Have a list in place, or better yet, a liaison [sister] to direct traffic. The gift of a maid service was a spiritual cleansing.
A heartfelt thanks to you all for keeping our family in your thoughts and prayers. We are fragile yet strong, shattered but unbreakable, wobbly yet resilient.
Or maybe that’s just three boxes of halloween candy helping keep my chin(s) up.