Or should I say "slinking" back in. Please accept my apologies for the dramatic exit. Now that the dust has settled, I've found that I need this place. I don't need it to help others "check in" with me to see about my mental health--which, frankly is pretty shaky these days. Or for others to read the posts like the latest in a FOX news Megyn Kelly's "take down" with eyes rolling and those leading questions meant to judge the worth of someone. UGH.Once again, Grief invited itself in and said, "let's talk about you." I wave him away, with a "eh.....I'm healed now." "Hah," he scoffs, "You'll need this when your brain goes and you need something to help you remember. So, tell me what'd'ya do today."
And this is why I creep, rather slink, back in to my space so I can write about my visit to Caitlin's grave site. That way when Grief brings me into the fifth season, I can click on my label, "Cemetery Visits" and remember the significant visits. Because, what if Grief is right, and my basal ganglia starts deteriorating and I can't remember the late-night-police-escort-out visit or the Christmas-dig-through-the-snow visit.
There isn't anywhere to share these kinds of visits. No one else but grief asks, "what'd'ya do today? and truly hangs on your every word of how you took a third angel to leave at your daughter's grave. Only Grief is interested and heart-warmed that the driver of a truck that drove by with fresh dirt thought to wave and nod as I was standing at her stone. Grief thought, as I did, that that was a nice gesture and what a relief to be recognized rather than turned away from so as to leave me to my "private sorrow." There's no where to share that each angel seems to be telling a story of our mother and daughter journey. Cemetery visits simply aren't stories you share. Only Grief will listen.
