Monday, March 21, 2011


It's a funny old thing, grief.  It hits you when you least expect it. 

Last night when I was watering the roses in the front yard of the Castle I was not expecting it.  I had a wonderful weekend.  But one minute there was water coming out of the hose, the next there was water coming out of my eyes.  All because of a fleeting thought...

'Dad won't ever see these roses.' 

And he won't.

And it makes me sad.

And it has been a while (a good two weeks at least!) since thoughts of Dad have made me actually cry.  Sure, I have been sad, but not to the point of tears. 

One step forward and two fucking steps back.  When will I start to just move forward?  Ever?  

Hmmm... I'm having second thoughts, perhaps there isn't anything funny about grief at all?

Today I am grateful for my sister.  In fact, every single day I am grateful for my sister.


  1. Preaching to the choir Jo. My Pat and your Dad probably see the roses just fine and wonder what we're banging on about...

  2. I don't think grief is the linear process that we wish it was. My grandmother died almost 2 years ago and I'm still missing her every day. I look at my children and wish that she could see them and what I'm doing now. It's hard.



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