Still Standing

I am so honored and humbled and excited to be writing for Still Standing Magazine. Check it out.

http://stillstandingmag.com/2013/11/grief-box/

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Today really sucked. It started almost immediately when I woke up. The familiar knot in my stomach. The dreadful lump in my throat. The heaviness in my chest. I looked at the clock as my brain started running through the possible scenarios and excuses that could buy me a day in bed. I rolled over and hugged my pillow tightly. As if to protest life and the coming day. I made myself get up eventually. But it didn't get better. I simply pushed through each task mindlessly. Up. Coffee.  Cereal. Makeup. Clothes. Lunch. Keys. Bye. 

It followed me to work. I cried on the way. The facade of happy, streaming down my face. Fresh with mascara and salt. Physical proof of my pain. Kind of nice actually, to see something tangible in my tears. 

I walked into work with a deep breath. Grateful to have an office where I could sit in silence. With my light off and my lamp on, the only sound was coffee brewing and music playing softly. Thank god for those mornings. I surely needed it today. But I felt no better. I was just glad to have a peaceful place in which to feel like shit. Between the emails and the meetings, the lump returned. Through everything, the knot remained. I thought of her with every passing moment. Finally the clock shed some mercy on me and the day ended. 

I cried again. I like to cry in my car. Not the wailing, hyperventilating, ugly cry. Those are best suited for the bed or shower or pretty much anywhere other than behind the wheel. But the calm, effortless cry. Where tears fall freely and with solid conviction. I stopped at the cemetery on my way home. I sat by her grave. And then I went home, where my two lives collide. The life that is and the one that should be. I cook dinner. One less plate. I hug my son. One less child. We watch his show. No sibling argues. He goes to bed. A lone goodnight kiss. 

Now I'm in bed. This day is done. It was awful. But I did it. And I survived it. And that makes this awful day, also kind of amazing. 

Come on tomorrow, please be gentle.