In 2012 our adult son died. We don't recover but we adapt and the grief becomes softer, sometimes, and then there are days like yesterday when I had a setback and raged all day long. I was very hard on my husband, which I regret deeply, but fortunately our long marriage can withstand the storms. After loosing our only child, aging is the hardest thing I've ever been through and yet I am grateful for each day and this fall I will see what 80 looks like. Days like yesterday, I wanted to quit everything... but I didn't... and today I feel better. I've learned that things can change very quickly and in the lowest of times I do a Scarlette O'Hara "I'll think about it tomorrow" and give myself a measure of grace. Looking forward to the rest of your series, thanks for talking about fear. I got up this morning and said "I'm stronger than I know and life is hard but I can do hard things."
That is beautifully put. Sometimes the only thing is to think about it tomorrow. Mornings are the best for me, no question…by the end of the ay I can feel somewhat defeated, but mornings invariably allow me grace. I wish I had the relationship that withstood the storms. That ship has sailed, I’m afraid. Lovely comment, Noel. So very sorry for the loss of your son.
You're right; there is no avoiding the big, scary-awful feels. I am working on a dream project, something I consider my legacy, but I have to acknowledge that by the time this dream is scheduled to come to fruition, the world may have upended itself to the point where my dream, along with so many others, is washed away by the tsunami of awful, in ways I can't even foresee yet. That's not negative thinking; it's just looking reality in the face. It's been good medicine to see and participate in the veterans' protests at the Idaho state capital this weekend.
A friend in her late 70s once said that she was well aware that she might be starting projects she’d never finish. While true, the thing is to start. We never know where we might end up. Perhaps better.
This is an excellent post. Grief is a normal part of life, and we must cope the best way we can. Like you, I have osteopenia, despite my good fitness level over the years. Breast cancer treatment really reduced my bone density, and I occasionally get angry about this. But it's something I have to live with, just like getting older.
I am also grieving the loss of the U.S. The country I used to know has become alien to me. So many people out of work, like your friend. I no longer understand our society.
The book Do Hard Things is now on my reading list. Thank you so much for the recommendation. Hang in there.
In 2012 our adult son died. We don't recover but we adapt and the grief becomes softer, sometimes, and then there are days like yesterday when I had a setback and raged all day long. I was very hard on my husband, which I regret deeply, but fortunately our long marriage can withstand the storms. After loosing our only child, aging is the hardest thing I've ever been through and yet I am grateful for each day and this fall I will see what 80 looks like. Days like yesterday, I wanted to quit everything... but I didn't... and today I feel better. I've learned that things can change very quickly and in the lowest of times I do a Scarlette O'Hara "I'll think about it tomorrow" and give myself a measure of grace. Looking forward to the rest of your series, thanks for talking about fear. I got up this morning and said "I'm stronger than I know and life is hard but I can do hard things."
That is beautifully put. Sometimes the only thing is to think about it tomorrow. Mornings are the best for me, no question…by the end of the ay I can feel somewhat defeated, but mornings invariably allow me grace. I wish I had the relationship that withstood the storms. That ship has sailed, I’m afraid. Lovely comment, Noel. So very sorry for the loss of your son.
You're right; there is no avoiding the big, scary-awful feels. I am working on a dream project, something I consider my legacy, but I have to acknowledge that by the time this dream is scheduled to come to fruition, the world may have upended itself to the point where my dream, along with so many others, is washed away by the tsunami of awful, in ways I can't even foresee yet. That's not negative thinking; it's just looking reality in the face. It's been good medicine to see and participate in the veterans' protests at the Idaho state capital this weekend.
A friend in her late 70s once said that she was well aware that she might be starting projects she’d never finish. While true, the thing is to start. We never know where we might end up. Perhaps better.
Fabulous information, support and empathy. I’m looking forward to part 2.
Coming soon!!
Hi Julia,
This is an excellent post. Grief is a normal part of life, and we must cope the best way we can. Like you, I have osteopenia, despite my good fitness level over the years. Breast cancer treatment really reduced my bone density, and I occasionally get angry about this. But it's something I have to live with, just like getting older.
I am also grieving the loss of the U.S. The country I used to know has become alien to me. So many people out of work, like your friend. I no longer understand our society.
The book Do Hard Things is now on my reading list. Thank you so much for the recommendation. Hang in there.
Wow!!! Part 2 please