Grief eclipses everything.

Amazingly, it’s not all tears all the time. The majority of the time, it’s a deep feeling of sadness, it’s nausea, it’s brain fog that prohibits one from completing sentences and tasks, it’s an impenetrable void, it’s a minute consciousness of one’s mind and body, it’s a general feeling of unwell, it’s high anxiety, it’s somehow both lethargy and the need for movement. It’s the inability to smile, or, at least it feels that way a lot of the time. A smile seems like so much effort, but smiles still come naturally, too.

It’s a tiredness, it’s a shortness, it’s an irritability. Yet, gratitude persists as well. Thankfulness for friends, for messages, for meals, and for simple beauties.

It’s so sacred, and it’s so miserable.

We went to Jeremiah’s today — that was the last place Scott and I saw my mother. When we left, a beautiful rainbow wrapped the sky. We marveled.

We didn’t cry, but we did lament. Pausing to remember. Oh, how I wish we’d gotten to say goodbye. How I wish none of this was happening. But, we saw a rainbow. And what do we make of that?

I’m angry, sad, and confused. At the end of the day, I’m just a survivor, writing to detail a bit of what it’s like.