Sausage Burrito

When you’re grieving for someone that you lived with–someone who was part of your “normal” every day living, for a while it clouds every aspect of living. It’s as if you go through the motions, but the “inner” you is watching life go on– all the while screaming “This isn’t right!…None of this is normal or ok…..Stop!”…..Sometimes you do stop and give in to the tantrum, but sometimes you manage to ignore the cry of your heart and push through. I suppose we do it for the sake of others. It really is a terrible thing to make others sad just by being around them. Other times we push through because we know we need to find a way to live the new normal—to try and find moments of reprieve from the cloud, to not be so far inside our heads that we miss this life that is still happening all around us. So, we manage to have moments of living, but not without some serious effort and a constant loss of innocence that taints every good moment. There’s always the realization that those moments can be gone in a flash. We are never guaranteed another tomorrow. I’d like to say that makes me appreciate the good times more, but sometimes the bitterness wins and I just feel cheated. Regardless of the bitterness, I know better than to carelessly let a moment pass without recognizing it’s importance. That’s the problem of grief, it makes every normally menial task somehow seem important.

In my grief, I try to find ways to connect and honor Sarah even in my every day moments. Maybe I’m holding on to tightly. Maybe, at this point, I’m just hanging on. However, I know that when I find a way to include things that meant something to her, it makes me feel better. Today, I ordered a breakfast burrito from McDonald’s and stuck the round “sausage” sticker in a funny place. She did that to me all the time. I’d find them hidden in the funniest places. When I’d find them, she’d laugh so hard and was so proud of herself for being so clever. Today it made me smile to remember her sense of humor. Tomorrow, the same memory may make me cry. I have no way of knowing which one it may be. That’s ok. I’ll still find a way in the “new” normal of my day to connect and remember her. If the tears come, I’ll let them. After all, their only purpose is here on earth and their days are numbered.