Grief is a delicate thing.
I find I'm moving through the world cautiously, trying to move slowly and mindfully. I don't want to do too much, take on too much, or expose myself to something that will be too much.
Yesterday, I felt great. I woke up to my alarm, took a supply job, and had a fabulous and rewarding day.
Today I woke up feeling strong, and I decided to go grocery shopping. On my way there I passed an accident on the highway. Nothing horribly serious, but it wrecked me.
I ended up in the parking lot of the grocery store gasping for breath and sobbing.
What hit me had today was the fact that my mom died all alone. This will always haunt me, along with the words my sister spoke to me the day she died, "they worked on her at the scene...".
Something happened after I saw the accident, though that I need to share. The very first car I saw after I got off the highway was the exact same car as my mom's. EXACTLY the same. I don't know what to make of that except to say in the time I needed her strength, she was there.
