Art of Grieving

is this not the most gorgeous sunset? taken on the waterfront in Cold Spring NY
My discontent with grief comes from its blocking my boundless want. By drawing strict lines between my living and those whom I have lost, things that I have lost, parts of self, which I have lost, grief casts the world in harsh light. She makes it impossible to believe, but rather multiplies a heinous haunting that keeps you peering into the corner of the wall, blank, forgotten, restless, almost retching, so that the slate can be wiped clean, and you can begin the act of living again. Holidays are always a double-edged saw for me, one side painful, and one side sharp and shiny. It is both sides I am always left to deal with...

Against all good and reasonable judgment, life happens, to all of us. I just wish I had been in the bathroom when it came this time around, toiled blood, sweat and tears, and here I am, ready for round two of whatever life has to offer up. It is Friday, so round two just might end up a bit messy, with sea salt and chile dark chocolate melted all over my hands; it helps to soften the blow from round two.