BLOCK

This is the wall.

I had sort of thought I might hit it. 

And it makes sense that I hit it today.

Even though the grief isn't the sort of staggering thing it used to be, it's still a part of me. 

And a part of today especially. 

It's been building since May. 

I'll get a little breather in July and then August will come. 

August sucks. 

Or it has.

Maybe this year it will become bearable and maybe someday it will become fun again.

I'm not holding my breath. 

But getting through today, this weekend, that's the next step.

And, like I said, it's not that really heavy grief anymore. It's not the stop and sob kind of grief. The brain fog and can't imagine the next hour let alone the next year sort of grief. 

But it's still here. 

I had gotten to the point where the anniversary of Dad's death wasn't as awful as it had been. That sort of remembrance without too much sorrow moment. 

Then Mom died. 

And suddenly it wasn't her birthday anymore, it was the anniversary of the day she was born. She wasn't getting older. She had stopped. But time keeps going.

She would have been...

It would have been...

We've reached the point where it's no too terrible, and maybe if they weren't together it would be sadish, a good day for memories instead of a little too heavy still. A little too much.

Not staggering. Not overwhelming. 

But not great.

And not good at all for writing. 

So today you got the bricks in my wall.

The heavy things that I cannot move to write something lovely for you.

I knew it was coming. 

I could see it looming. 

Today I hit it.