Fresh

Loss. It’s a funny thing. And by funny, I mean the interesting, kick your ass kind.

In March, I lost my Dad to cancer. And eight days ago, I lost one of my dearest friends and her three daughters to a tragic accident. After both incidents of loss, I spent the first couple of days basically numb. There were moments of realization that elbowed their way through the numbness. It’s amazing how you can feel so completely numb and still only have the horror and the grief less than a thought away.

There are also moments of utter disbelief. This cannot possibly be happening. My Dad simply cannot have died at the young age of 64. My sweet friend and her sweeter daughters cannot possibly be gone forever. I can still hear their voices in my head. I still think about calling them like they are only a phone call away. I still thought about what to bring them back from a recent vacation. Is that habit or denial? Probably both.

As I sat, today, in the memorial service for Laurel, Hannah, Zoe and Lucy, the idea for this blog came to me. As I sat there thinking, “Jesus, how am I ever going to get through this, how am I ever going to stop crying?” I thought, it’s time to write it out. It’s time to allow the memory of my Dad and my dear friends to live through my process of grief and loss. It’s time to go to work, again.

So here I am, typing slowly at my laptop, tears filling my eyes to the point where I cannot see the screen, trusting that my fingers will take me through this. Trusting that my Dad, Laurel, Hannah, Zoe and Lucy will see me through this. That they will continue to hold my hand now like they did so many times before. And that through this immense loss, I will emerge the other side stronger, more full of love and light and with a greater ability to live and inhabit each moment as it arrives and then passes.