Turning a Corner

One thing I know about grief is that it is not linear, not a straight progression from bad to better. You may wake up okay and fall apart in the afternoon. Two bad days can be followed by a good one. And sometimes you turn a corner.

Carol noted recently that I had turned the corner into joy again. And I have. I love being here. Kathleen certainly propelled me into this place faster than I might otherwise have arrived.

This time last year I couldn’t have imagined being here in a place where there is light and joy along with the shadow and sorrow. I was deep in the darkness, the heaviness. I knew it would get lighter but I couldn’t see how or when. I couldn’t envision the me of today; I could only look back at pictures of the me who had been and wonder at her smile, her sparkle, her joy. I still wonder at her, that she who was me. I may not sparkle, but I smile again. The joy is tempered by loss, but it is still deep. The missing and the delight are wrapped closely together.

I have turned a corner, started a new part of my journey. This road of grieving, of missing, of Henry being gone still stretches out before me. But I have turned a corner.

I look back at this time last year, not to dwell in the sadness or because I cannot move forward. I look back sometimes to see how very far I’ve come.