Missing This Guy

I'm so tired of grief. I named him Carmichael, my grief. He's my constant companion and I'm sick to death of him. He lurks in the shadows, then, when I least expect it, he's sitting on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, making me cry. Sad all over again, and again, and again.

The most unsuspected things will bring Carmichael to the forefront. For instance, I took my grandkids to the zoo last week. It would have been a trip that Grampa and I managed together. But instead, it was me and Carmichael. He was pretty quiet during the day, but he systematically wore me down to the point that I was completely derailed for the next two days. AFF - Damn you, Carmichael.

I wonder if my ramblings about grief are of any help to anyone. The first few months after Scott died (Phew, I said it...) all I wanted to read was how other people coped. Maybe my story is helpful...I don't know.

Writing about my grief wears me out, but it's like I can't NOT write about it. It's a release. I'm not looking for sympathy or anything in particular. I don't want people to feel sorry for me, shake their heads and not know how to respond. It is what it is. Two steps forward, one step back. Carmichael is sitting across the room today, and not on my shoulder, so that's a good thing. Maybe tomorrow he will be out in the backyard, and I won't even see him. Fingers crossed.

As always, thanks for reading my ramblings. Blessings to all.