Grief

Not sure if everyone thinks of butterflies when they think of grief. I can't remember when I began to associate the two.

A little over a month ago, my husband's father passed away.

Grief seems to me to float in almost imperceptibly at first. It lands quietly. It waits for you to notice and then drifts off as quietly as it arrived.

My kids, my husband and I have felt it there when we talk about doing things we know he would have loved. I felt it when I saw his shoes sitting near the door. I feel it when I do math homework with my kids and they tell me, "Grandpa taught us how to do this all but in an easy way. We aren't allowed to do math Grandpa's way in school." At my daughter's parent-teacher conference, the teacher said that my daughter likes to do the math assignments her way and the teacher can't give her credit unless she learns the processes as they are taught. I felt grief quietly pass from my eyes to my daughter's and to my husband's. We didn't have to talk about what we felt. We all knew.

I know in time that I will see the beauty of the grief like I see the beauty in butterflies, but for now it feels like a frozen pond that I'm skating over. The cold keeps me from seeing. Just have to keep moving to stay warm.