Bridge

The first year after Sarah died, my brain was so busy trying to figure out where she was. It was like a puzzle I had to solve. I thought about it all the time. Was she still alive in some form or another? How? Would we see each other again? Was she well cared for?

The other day it struck me that I don’t think about this whole conundrum that much anymore. Does that mean I’ve accepted her death? Maybe it means that primitive part of my brain has accepted it can’t find her and has stopped searching.

It’s been a super-stressful week. Just a lot of stuff going on with work, with my “foo,” my family of origin, and a lot of feelings. The accident with the bridge in Baltimore for some reason made me feel just terribly sad. People alive one minute and then dead the next.

I had another session with the Parakeet Lady today, my new therapist. She said not to worry about feeling crazy or having strange thoughts during the grieving process because no matter how strange and crazy my grief feelings might be, someone else grieving had them too. That felt very comforting.