I forgot how tired grief makes me. I don't push the feelings away, I don't tell myself to buck up and gut it out, but sadness can still get tangled up inside, stuck in a dark corner and unable to get out. And I get tired. So tired.
Life doesn't stop, though. Laundry piles high, people get hungry, pantry shelves empty, dog hair collects under the piano, math lessons require help, Eagle scout deadlines remain. I am glad, for as weary as I am I would probably just curl up in a ball and not move. Eight or nine hours at night are enough time for the fetal position; I am glad that the responsibilities of life get me moving.
But it is beauty that grabs my heart and makes me really live.
There is beauty in the sunrise, creating ribbons of light across the valley. Flowers glowing in the afternoon light and shadows. The intricate design of lace hanging in a window.
There are your beautiful comments and emails and gifts and cards. They remind me I am not alone. Thank you.
Life didn't have to beautiful, did it? It could simply be utilitarian, grey, and functional. Instead the world is filled, created, designed with an astounding variety of beauty. The colors flashing as a bird darts by, the golden song of laughter as the family plays Apples-to-Apples, the grace of a young man as he soars to the basket for a crowd-pleasing block, the smell of lasagne reminding us that dinner is ready...beauty is around every corner.
And it is waking me up, winning me over.