Three years of memory is coming up this December. As I helped a friend in town remember her son on the anniversary of the day he died, it snuck up on me that it's never really easier. It feels that way some days, or weeks. But when it comes down to the fiber of our being, to the beating of our hearts, and the memory of those little feet and hands and lips and hair...it's never easier.
I spoke with a good friend recently, and they've experienced their own grief journey for several years now. They said something to the effect of: "I came to the conclusion that I couldn't be everything. I can choose to be a good at some things. So I chose to be a good parent above all else. And the rest of it, I'm okay with being shit at." And it struck me as brilliant.
I want to be everything to everyone and everything. Perfect parent. Perfect griever. Perfect community member. Perfect artist. Perfect religious model. Perfect daughter. Perfect wife. I care too much again, and am stretching myself thin. I need to come to an understanding with myself, that I can be okay with being shit at some of that stuff. Pick the most important things, and don't sweat the rest of it. Don't fear imperfection.
I'm excited for this holiday season. I always love the cold and the scarves and lights and trees and presents for others. Simon will be two in two months, and he's at just the right age to be really excited this time around. But there's the big lump in my throat knowing it's another year come and gone without her. You know the drill by now.
Wishing everyone time to contemplate the end of another year, and time with family, and beauty in the dark shadows too. <3 p="p">