As the calendar pages flutter towards the one-year mark, I find myself standing at the intersection of contemplation and decision-making. A year—a turbulent, unpredictable whirlwind that ushered in death’s profound silence, my own battles with illness, and the echo of a dog’s recovery from surgery.
In this juncture where grief has been both a constant companion and a force to reckon with, I pause. The proverbial advice lingers: refrain from major decisions in the first year of loss. And I heeded that counsel, holding back when the urge to dive into significant changes emerged. And, there were several thay would have changed my life even more should I have made those decisions. I’m glad I pulled back.
Yet, as the anniversary approaches, a question lingers like a gentle whisper: what’s next? The weight of decisions, dormant for a year, now stirs. Today, I’m like a mojito cocktail of contemplation and sorrow, emotions swirling in the cauldron of memories and loss.
The cadence of life has become a melody of resilience. I’ve kept his blog, a digital tapestry of his thoughts and expressions, as a testament to his spirit, a way to honor the life he lived in pixels and prose.
But what about the next chapter?
Decisions stand on the horizon. The cautionary advice against making them in the first year served as a shield. Now, I stand bare, exposed to the gusts of choices that beckon. Do I alter the course, or do I continue navigating the currents of the familiar?
Today, sadness wraps around me like a familiar shroud, a poignant acknowledgment of what’s no longer, and the indelible mark it’s left on my soul.
As I peer into the mist of the coming year, decisions will materialize. The roadmap might be blurry, but the pen is in my hand. To move forward, to remain anchored, or perhaps, to embark on a new journey—these are the choices that will soon demand my response.
Categories: current events, death, family, identity, mental health, Psychology
psychologistmimi 
Lady. I get it. I had a similar year. 3 deaths. 3 cancer diagnosis. (One of which was me). It’s hard. But. As I keep hearing the Elton John song in my head – “I’m still standing…” and so are you. You are meant to like this life. At this time. For a myriad of purposes. You can do this. After all. You are here to write this blog. With all this meaning. And be a blessing and example to others. Stay strong.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much for your words of encouragement. I love that elton john song and think i will play it now. I’m sorry to hear about your cancer diagnosis. Hope you are doing ok and well. Sending you best wishes. Together, we can persevere. Hugs 🫂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Change is The Greatest Gift And Curse
Yet Even Greater is The Breath That
Sails A New Course in Fair Winds
And Following Seas With
Anchors in Safe Harbors
During Raging Storm
Driven Waves Now
A Pebble on a Pond
Waves Come and Go
New Yet Indeed We aRe ALso
Winds that Carries Our Sails Out of Safe
Harbors into the Next Adventure to Wave
With
SMiLes
Dear Miriam
“Row Row Row
Your Boat Gently”
Or Fiercely Down
Streams And Dreams You
BRing to Life’s Fruition in LoVE iN Peace…
i Particularly Enjoyed Elton John’s “Yellow Brick Road”
Best Part
Leaving All
of That Behind
to Set All mY SoUL Free
Naked Enough Whole
Complete
“Goodbye”
Unattached to
Any Puppeteers of Life..:)
LikeLike
Never easy after a loss. When the time and decision are right, you’ll make it.
LikeLike
You never “get over” it. With time you can come to accept it without suffering from it.
LikeLike
Guidelines weren’t meant to be rigid laws – your ‘year’ can be 5 or 12 or 46 months. Shorter just proves to make more decisions you wish you hadn’t.
LikeLike
Don’t look back. You can change nothing there, only cherish those experiences. You can change the future, try to make it better for you and those around you. I pray for you on that journey. WDE
LikeLiked by 1 person