GRIEVING A MILESTONE

Grief is a gnarly beast.

Some of you may remember the trip I made to Brookings when I reached my mom's age of death. As of last month, all three of us Perkins kids have lived longer than our mom did. It's so strange.

I don't have what I call "mom days" very often anymore, days with grief tied directly to the loss of my mom, and when I do they're usually random. However, I realized a few months ago that this year would be the fifth anniversary of reaching the age my mom died at and I've become increasingly emotional as the date came closer. This milestone definitely threw me for a loop. Even now, I can't explain why it hit me so early and hard this year.

Throw in the disappointment of a canceled event with my sister, the emotion of a significant date for a close friend, the birthday of another close friend I've been wanting to spend time with (those three things were on the same day as the five year mark), the ordinary struggles of life, as well as a little depression, and I've been a total mess the last few weeks. Buckets of tears, crying over everything and nothing, all day, every day.

There have, of course, been plenty of good things and happy moments in the mix and I've been intentional about putting on my oxygen mask to keep from falling off the deep end. But, good gravy, it's been rough. The little Ws have known I might get choked up in the middle of talking about something as neutral as the weather and have eaten several meals without me while I hunkered down in my room or sat outside. Tim's held me when I couldn't stop crying, even when nothing in particular had set off the tears, and just spent time with me when I was off-kilter.

The day came and went. The milestone is over. I don't know how grief works for you, but the anticipation of a hard milestone is often harder for me than the day itself. I shed a few random tears at one point in the morning and some explainable ones later in the day, but I didn't feel as weighed down as I have for weeks.

I'm now five years and one day older than my mom was when she died. I haven't shed a single tear today. I haven't even come close. The day's been perfectly normal. The first emotionally stable day I've had in quite a while.

Again, grief is a gnarly beast.

Some of you are in the thick of grief right now. I won't list out the situations that come to mind, but this year, and even this last week, has been brutal for some of you. I encourage you to just keep moving forward. Cry your eyes out when you need to. Crawl under the covers when that's the best option. But keep moving forward. When you can't move, keep looking forward. Identify the oxygen mask things in your life and make a point to do at least one of them for a few minutes each day. Take care of yourself in whatever way you can and allow others to care for you as they're able. A better day is coming.