I start pedaling as the moon shines.
Darkness unfolds over me and through me.
The grief is vibrating throughout my being.
Tears come easily.
My heart literally aches.
No instruction manual or no expert that can tell you exactly what your journey will look like.
But I hold closely to my wise counselor’s words: just notice, don’t judge, just sit in it.
So I get on my bike and I sit.
Not responsible for anyone but myself and my grief.
Nowhere to go and no timeline to returned.
So I pedal and I wait.
I wait for dawn to break, hoping that my tears will be dried up by the time I need to return to my life, my beautiful life with my boys, and the wonderful people that surround me.
I see, now, that grief is no longer the end, it is simply the beginning.
An opportunity to shed unhealthy relationships.
A time to go within myself to look beyond the noise of the day-to-day stuff.
A new life to go deep inside my heart to realize how I want to spend my short time on this earth.
This Thanksgiving, I am extremely grateful for every person who has walked through and beside me during this incredibly difficult and rich time.
My tears are now pouring out because of the gratitude that I feel. The sadness is replaced but not gone.
I think I will most likely live the rest of my life a humbled woman who misses her mom.
Kisses. Air hugs. High fives.