Something inside of me is different. It feels like a small pilot light has been lit and instead of blowing out as in past months, it is stays alight.
Another image that describes this new feeling is a cocoon. Unbeknownst to me, I have been enveloped in a grief cocoon for the past four-and-a-half years, since that awful day that Josh left us. According to the dictionary, a cocoon is "something that covers and protects a person or thing." That sounds right.
I have been enveloped in a web of grief, sorrow, pain and heartache which has been reinforced with the tough fibers of guilt and regret. Mixed in this protective layering is the unresolved question of "why?"
If this image has a color, it would be grey as that is what has permeated my view 24/7. But intermittently, over the past few months, some rays of light have broken through.
Now, it feels like I am emerging from the grief cocoon and enjoying once more favorite activities such as shopping. I have recently bought new dishes. I've also gone shopping with my daughters whereby I've ended up with more new clothes than they.
I have found motivation to finally work on a scrapbook that a dear friend from college sent to me four years ago, all ready to record Josh's life in pictures. It has been sitting, patiently waiting for the time that I could cull through hundreds of photos, separate by year, to determine which would make it into this precious keepsake - without the sadness that prevented the exercise in the first place.
Another sign is the purchase of a new bedroom set, to replace an inexpensive but functional set that we bought upon our return to the U.S after living overseas - over 20 years ago.
Emerging from this grief cocoon, I feel like I've joined the living. Things that I cared about in the past are making their way into my consciousness again. It is like I've been a zombie - functioning in this world but not really a part of it. Going through the motions but not really caring. Living but with a deadened heart.
The grief is still there as evidenced by the tears as I re-read this post and type these words. But now, grief exists alongside this spark of life and together, one step-at-at-time, we will move forward together.