When do you feel your knees shake or your mouth turn to sandpaper? What makes your mind spin with emotionally charged random thoughts?
For me, up until today, it was that building with the gigantic H on the top of it. Yessiree Bob, the hospital.
Emotional muscle building hospital.
I walked through seven years, um I mean days, of hospital time with my mom exactly three and a half years ago. If you followed my blog back then you know this meant pain, excruciating pain, worried nurses who thought they were going to kill my mom with pain meds, a stolen chair, sleeping on said chair and a final ambulance ride in the snow with my mama to the incredible hospice house.
Today, I walked into the hospital to see another dearly beloved family member. I didn’t want to go, but my peeps are so much more important than any discomfort that I may feel. I put on my armour, remembered what I learned in my last journey and walked through the doors.
Walked through the doors with a “New View”, knowing that I had experiences that could help, a story that could support others and the keen sense to find tea, be in the right place at the right time and know the questions to ask when that magic right time happens.
Shit, I have learned something and grown into it!
I walked through the valley of he shadow of death, embraced it, rowed the waves of grief through it and now I can see the sun! I can see hope! I can see a completely New View.
Calm, steady words.
Emotional muscle built hospital.
The gift of grief keeps on giving and will for the rest of my life. My mom’s life and death had been one of my greatest teachers. It brought me to my knees and helped me learn to stand. Let this five all my fellow grief journeyers hope.
Standing in my truth.
With my experience.
Soaring in my gifts.
With my journey.
Soaking in my New View.
With love and gratitude for all that I can do and share. This post is dedicated to a beautiful couple who are our role models and the hospital that is supporting them in their journey.