Coming to rest

I’ve had some wicked curveballs thrown my way recently. It’s not fair, but it happens, and I’m doing my best to wring what happiness I can out of some seriously shitty circumstances.

My mother is in the hospital fighting cancer. I spend most of the day with her, and then come back here and pour some Mojitos down my neck. Not the healthiest method of dealing, I KNOW…I’ll work my way out of it soon. No, really.

The cottage I’m renting is about half an hour from the hospital, which actually works out really well. On the drive back here I can put that situation behind me, and work on my issues…the work of grieving goes on and on…and on. In a few weeks I’ll be visiting Stephen’s mum in England – there is no way that visit is not going to be heartbreaking.

As I sit here baring my soul on the internet, this is the view I have:

It’s really quite soothing. In spite of everything, I am feeling more at peace than I have in far too long. A complete change of scene was exactly what I needed. There are no reminders of Stephen here apart from what I brought with me. Without that background noise, I can think more clearly.

Although I think it’s more accurate to say: I can hear myself. Here, it actually seems possible to reconnect with that woman Stephen fell in love with; to get past the sad sack I have become.

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Cecelia - Too Young A Widow

African-American-Australian. A recent widow, attempting to navigate my way through the grieving process, blogging about pain,loss and love. I hope by sharing my journey, it will help others going through it to not feel so alone.

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