I don’t know about you where you are, but I not only a sweater and cotton blanket around my shoulders, but socks and shoes this morning on the porch. Oh, it is lovely! Quiet, even the crickets have lowered their tune to a whisper. All the quiet causes the bubbling ponds to sound loud. There is something squeaking faintly now and in the bush. The cool air is soft and sweet, and it is as if the world savors the peace of this precious moment before dawn. I have the urge to lift my tea mug to Mother Nature in this moment.
This morning in reading and writing, I realized that grief pretty much hangs around me like a mist. Sometimes it’s a thick fog. But I know now it does clear. A friend commented the other day that a big part of life, maybe the biggest, is dealing with grief. Comes in all types and sizes–loss of loved ones, loss of youth, loss of health and the life we wanted, loss of times spent on the porch with tea. I had a lesson yesterday, too, on the power of love. Love is stronger than anything, even a fit-throwing boy who doesn’t want to do his homework. Wow, the power of a hug! So it follows that love is stronger than grief, and therefore it follows the best thing we can do for ourselves and the world is to love–ourselves and others.
Well, that’s deep for today, but you can’t go wrong with love. Think I’ll enjoy loving myself today. Right now it looks like retail therapy, and please, God, let me get in more writing. Bits and pieces of a new book come to me. Okay. Today is the day to make notes.
I lift my tea mug to all of you! Let’s enjoy loving today.
Curtiss Ann Matlock 
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I’ve been doing a lot ofmreading and thinking about grief and love, mostly a result of not knowing how to both grieve and carry on with the demands of regular life. Your description of grief as a fog or mist captures what grief feels like–it’s an atmospheric condition that separates us from the world as we experienced it before the loss. I so admire your ability to sit with grief and at the same time with love and work. You inspire.
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I am with you, Miss Linda– how does one carry on with life, but be able to grieve. In my case, I am responsible now for the household, and being a parenting grandparent to a small boy, caretaker to my mother. Sometimes I just want to go to bed and cry, but there is no time. The shock has finally fully worn off, and the grief grows like yeast.
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