I Was Slowly Becoming More Resilient
Each morning I woke to face my adversary, grieving. Grieving waited for me with a smile seeking to knock me down again and again. Each day I rose determined to fight back. Slowly, I was becoming stronger, more resilient. I didn’t notice it at first; it was at the ten week mark of grieving where I thought I got a glimpse of dawn that lasted long enough to give me hope. Here is an excerpt from my journal in Dancing Alone: Learning to Love Again:
“I am at the ten-week mark of grieving. I think I see progress in small ways. In other ways, the emptiness is as strong as it was on day one. Living one day at a time, doing the best I can, and trying to stay in the moment is a herculean task.
Perhaps grief will never leave me. I wonder when people look at me and see me smiling if they think I’ve bounced all the way back and no longer see me grieving. I put on a happy face. I smile. I engage in conversations. I try not to speak about my grieving. If asked, I share my story again and again. It is the price I pay for the gift of loving Babe. Would I trade my life and wish it differently if I knew my life with Babe would end this way? I wouldn’t think about it for a second. My life with Babe was, and continues to be, a love story.
Babe, through her life, taught me to love. She was as close to God in her life as anyone I’ve ever known. Why would I trade that?”
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Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright