Finding A Balance ......

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...... is sometimes difficult to do.
In all areas of life.
And on this blog.

It's difficult to write posts that will connect with everyone.  If we write about how horribly dark and depressing and hard-to-survive those first days, weeks and months are ...... we don't connect with those who've been in this "club" for quite a while.

If we write about finding happiness again (albeit a different happiness) and that life is once again worth living, we don't connect with those who are drowning in grief.

We can't always reach everyone.
So what do we do?
We write what we know.
We write what we're living.
That's all we can do.
It won't always be enough, but that's why there are seven of us.  Hopefully at least one writer will write something that will make you feel less alone, less crazy, less ...... lesser.

There's no doubt about it ...... having a reason to be here, reading this ...... sucks.
And that's putting it mildly.
I came kicking and screaming into this club.  I didn't want to be here, I didn't think I belonged here, and I hated being associated with anyone who was here.
And while I still hate that I have a reason to be here, I've come to accept that ...... here is where I am.
No amount of kicking or screaming, or hating that Jim is dead ...... will bring him back.

That acceptance did not come easily, and it did not come quickly.
At least not for me.
I grieved hard.
But then, I loved hard.
I had him for a long time.
Not long enough, to be sure.
But long enough to ensure that I was going to grieve a long time.

I'm not dumb enough to believe that I will reach a point where I'll never grieve.  I will always miss him.
Always.
But I have arrived at the point where I am no longer sitting in the bottom of that deep, dark, cold cave that is grief.  I slowly managed to walk out of that cave.  And I do mean slowly.
In the beginning, I thought I'd never get out of that cave.  I imagined I'd die in there.
And I almost did.
Almost.

But I was stronger than I thought I was.  I made it out.
It took longer than I wish it had, but hey ...... out is out.

So what's my point?
Just this:
We are all grieving.  Yet we all grieve on our own time line.  There's no right way ...... or wrong way.
We grieve the way we grieve.
For as long as it takes.

But hopefully, once we get past those oh, so very hard first months ...... or years ...... one day we look forward, and notice that the air around us is a little lighter.  The future has turned from coal black, to dark grey.  And for the first time, we feel hope.
Hope that the sky will become lighter still.
Hope that we'll one day be able to take that last step which will take us, finally, out of the cave.
Hope that one day we'll smile again ...... and feel it.

So even though you may not believe it, or want to hear it, hope is out there.
You don't have to believe it ...... yet.
Some of us will believe it for you.
And we'll be here ...... when you're ready.

So while my words won't connect with all of you, I want you to know that I was there.
In that cave.
And if I could make my way out ...... anyone can.
I promise.