#Grief reactions aren't great, but are normal.

My stomach has been low key bothering me since breaking one of my dead mother's favorite mugs while doing the dishes, earlier this week.

Grief brain is like, "people take pictures if the care. Why didn't you get one?"

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Grief brain also wanted to know:

"Did you think you got away with something by not being incapacitated on your birthday?"

"What will you do when there's nothing of hers left to break?"

"Did you think I'd let you forget?"

#Grief

Of course, grief brain is expected.

I know that she will bother me, popping up on scheduled holidays and milestones, but also whenever she feels like it.

It's annoying, but also manageable.

#Grief

It's unhelpful to tell myself that I won't let it happen this year. I'm not in charge of that.

I can manage my exposures, try to distract myself from getting too wound up, and remember it will pass.

Breaking the mug pales in comparison to her dog dying earlier this year.

I was borderline obsessive about keeping her from getting out of the yard, and then she ate poison somehow.

#Grief

Conversations about grief are often frustrating, especially when people tell us how to feel or what to think about our losses.

The best help I've had is from good listeners who have been there.
#Grief

I think losing their possessions reminds us of the ever widening gap between before and after.

Possessions are sort of ultimate limited edition secular relics. There will never be any more.
#Grief

Of course, somebody might barge in to tell me that they're only objects. Not really. She loved to drink tea. She happily drank from that mug thousands of times.
#Grief

#Grief changes us, but that's normal. It's part of life.

Carbon pressed into diamond.
Sand made into glass.
Threads woven into fabric.

We can do this with help.

I find hope in the fact that others have already stood where we stand.
They have lost what we are missing.

This can be done.
#Grief