so very grateful

On Saturday someone asked me how I was doing.  

My answer was "Up and down."

She responded that grief is not linear.

Yes. Exactly. Thank you.

It was as if I had expected every day, every week and every month to become easier. 

Not so.

It doesn't seem to be that way.

A few days ago I "talked" to Brian, saying "hi Bree".

For that moment I saw him as he had been. 

Several years ago. 

When he was well.

I hadn't seen him this way for a long time and my heart was full.

I've been gathering old photographs together to give to my daughter Hilary so she can add them to the piles of genealogy papers I had researched about 40 years ago.

And there were photographs of the gardens Brian and I had created together.

Perhaps 45 years ago.

                                                                garlic

Raised beds that Brian had built from huge wood slabs and piled with sifted soil and manure that I filled with seeds and young plants that I had started in one of our greenhouses.

dried beans

                                                                    one of our flower beds

Within the many folders, I also found photographs of my early art work, shocked by the realization that I had sold many hundreds of paintings, collages and what I called Talisman Blocks.

I'm smiling right now.

I see us as we were then, young and so much in love.

At this moment I am so very grateful.

 a few from long long ago

   

                                                                            

deep circles

I'm starting this post with words to myself.

"I may not publish this entry"

Now, that's promising!

It reminds me of about 40 years ago, when I was just beginning The Artists' Way by Julia Cameron, and was faced with my first day of Morning Papers.

These daily Papers were to be 1/2 hour of unconscious journaling. 

My first line, all those years ago, was "I'm not sure if I'm doing this right."

That memory has stayed with me, with the disapproving critic sitting on my shoulder.

I flick it away and then it sits idle for a day, a week or longer and then somehow this noise-maker has climbed back next to my right ear.

                              (Okay, I'm  assuming I can move forward with this post)

On Wednesday, my friend P gifted me a book by Meghan Riordan Jarvis called CAN ANYONE TELL ME?  Essential Questions About Grief and Loss. 

I've not read more than 30 pages and yet a few things have already made a valuable imprint.

I have seen myself age these last few years and especially this past year as Brian's health diminished. 

                     The deep circles under my eyes have been especially noticeable.

And then, on page 53, the author writes: "Most people have some sense of what it means to under- or overeat during periods of stress." 

I've lost 8 pounds.

And she continues, "Other visible changes in appearance- bags under the eyes, changes in skin and hair, wearing the same clothes...is mostly a temporary grief response."

Oh, but I'm only wearing this same black pullover every day because it's covered with hair from Oliver, my cat, and I don't want to ruin my other sweaters.  

Right?

I see also that my grief has affected my memory and cognitive ability.  

And, that's scary.

This morning I got into my car to get some decaf coffee beans from Cafe Fantastico.  It was raining and I needed the windsheild wipers on.

And, I couldn't figure out how to start them!

Before I could begin crying, in panic, I turned off the ignition and removed the key.

I started all over again,  relying on my body's memory bank.

It worked,  although I am still worried that I may be "losing it".

I've always hated the expression "take one step at a time" but I'm beginning to understand its value.

So really, steps #1, #2 and #3 are to eat healthy,  keep in touch with friends and to continue the fun I'm having creating collages.

 Oh, and to devote a second sweater to Oliver's hair!

                                                                                      (these collages have not yet been glued down)