we are expecting another snow storm, so we headed out for provisions today. and in the frozen food aisle, this woman who appeared to be in her eighties walked up to me with two half gallons of ice cream and said, "can you help me?" i nodded. relief on her face,"is one of these vanilla? i don't have my glasses." "this one," i said, pointing to the one in her left hand. "thank you so much," she said as she turned toward her cart.
and suddenly i found myself doing that pull inward, that pull that you do with your face and your heart and your gut to keep from bursting into tears.
it was unexpected and odd and a bit silly i suppose.
but this is grief.
standing in the frozen food section, the sucker punch that is grief brought me almost to my knees.
for just a second.
as jonny stood saying, "which kind of pizza did you want?"
and i stood just looking at the cart as though in a daze.
after a few seconds of borderline annoyance (the store was the busiest i have experienced in a long time...there wasn't really space for hanging out in front of the frozen pizzas in bewilderment), he walked around to me and the pizzas and said, "are you okay?"
i waved my arm in that "i am fine...move on" sort of way.
but when he stood next to me, i leaned in for support.
"do you miss your grandma?"
nodding, the tears began.
and we chose the california pizza kitchen pizza margherita thin crust.
breathe.
keep going.
breathe.
one foot, then the other.
tonight, i took out a favorite picture that used to be out all the time, placed it on my altar, lit a candle, and remembered what love is.
i remember.
this song, this very beautiful melancholy song by joni mitchell is sitting inside my heart tonight.
i also love this version by sarah mclachlin (i listen to it all the time...her album wintersong is my favorite favorite christmas album)
and tonight i found this version by james taylor
and this pretty freaking fantastic version by corrine bailey rae
and this bluesier newer version from miss joni
sending blessings and peace to you this evening...
