The Pause

There are times when I catch myself being happy, like really laughing out loud happy. Then I feel guilty, and so I stop.

How sad is that?

That pause? Right before you lose yourself in a good feeling? That pause is the consequence of grief.

The reminder that your loved one won’t experience that good time with you. It’s the gut punch thrown by your sub conscious to alert you to the pain lingering beneath the surface. It’s a megaphone announcing “who do you think you are enjoying yourself??’ Its the asshole scraping all the good whipped cream off your sundae!

That pause is a mother fucker.

I wonder if it will ever go away… If I will ever make it through the day without the record skipping…

I honestly don’t know but I do have a hope.

My hope, for all of us connected by grief, is that while the record may skip that we at least get to dance to most of the song.

That each year we recover from the pause quicker than the year before.

And that when the time comes, and the break knocks us off of our feet, that we make the time to lay down and breathe and cry and remember that tomorrow is another chance to dance a little longer…

Namaste y’all

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