PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Somewhere along the way I got the notion that each day would be a little bit easier, a little bit better, as I move on with my life and move through my grief. Maybe it's true, but I'm starting to think that might be something you see easier in retrospect, like, say, a few months from now.

I'm determined, and I'm process-oriented. It's why I love knitting, even if the end result doesn't delight me. So I keep thinking with the "one-foot-in-front-of-the-other" principle, and I think I'll move in one continuous direction, a straight line, out of the worst of the grief and into a better, more adjusted place. Yeah. It's not exactly like that.

I went to the grocery store yesterday and started feeling the fingers of a panic attack clutching at my chest. All I could envision was curling up on the floor by the seltzer water, sobbing behind a big display of Monster energy drinks, and I thought, OK, if I do that, I'm only going to say JWo's cell phone number over and over, so they call him to come get me. Because I'm not going to tell anyone my father died. Don't get me wrong - I'm grateful for the sympathy, but I'm exhausted by everything related to the subject. The kind strangers at the Price Chopper can just think I'm insane for no reason at all. Then I thought about how stressful it would be on everyone, including me, and I just held on tighter to my cart and hurried through the store. I bought 27 yogurts. TWENTY-SEVEN. I had to help the cashier count them, twice.

So, as much as my intellect doesn't want it to be so, it's pretty clear right now that this process is NOT a straight line. It's a doodle, that doubles back on itself, that soars high and sinks low, it is a path that is clear and strong and then blurs and fades, but there is not a direct highway between Point A and Point B. I will say this: I'm grateful the whole path is filled with love. It buffers and cushions and reminds you why you must keep walking, no matter how much it feels like you're going backwards sometimes.