The problem with grief is that just as you think you’re doing okay, you find yourself falling through a trap door.  It’s not usually down into a shark infested pool, more like a trip and fall, but “ouch” nevertheless.

After all these years I have a trap door at Christmas when I come across an ornament that belongs to Al’s mom.  This past Christmas it happened when one of our choral songs was “Christmas Time is Here” from the “Charlie Brown Christmas.”  Made me think of my Dad, who could cry at beautiful music at the drop of a hat, and was an avid Peanuts fan.  Charlie Brown Christmas  debuted when I was 11 years old.  Seems like yesterday we all sat down in anticipation and especially Dad was delighted with what we saw.

Now I’m packing up to leave our rental.  This house has been a nice “transition” home.  When we arrived last March, I had lost my dear friend Terri just four days before.  I moved and then flew back for the funeral.  This home is light and airy, with a sloping back yard that replaced my view in Lafayette with soothing greenery.  I set up a sewing room and Terri’s photo has shared my fun and frustration of quilting just as she did when alive.  Getting the house set up for our stint here kept me occupied.  Joining a chorus and Toastmasters and getting and job and learning my way around – it all gave me a respite from my deep grief.   This home allowed me to grieve without everything in Lafayette to remind me of her and our good times.

I noticed the symptoms of grief as I pack.  A gentle ever present sorrow that was hard to define.  I took stock of my feelings and realized what was happening.  By packing up this home and moving to another, I am taking one more step away from my time in Lafayette.   Away from my precious time with Terri not only in the last months of her life, but from all the years we spent when she had cancer but was otherwise healthy and vibrant.

The quilting classes we took and the great joy we shared at fabric stores.  (One time I went to Joann’s without her and lo and behold ran into her – we laughed as we both were “busted!”).  Making a library of books made out of videos tape boxes for Andy and Anna’s grad night – the theme was Harry Potter and each painted “book” had a name of a grad and a slit in the top so the kids could write a notes to each other during the evening and have it delivered (via Owl Mail of course), to the books which the kids took home at the end of the night.  Terri came up with very clever and funny book titles based on Harry Potter for all those students! Camping at Yosemite, sitting by the campfire, by the waterfalls, agreeing that it was church for us. The merciful part of the grieving process: the sorrow melts into sweet memories.

This trap door, though, this realization that my life must indeed go on without her, hit that deeply buried grief that will never really go away for those of us who are left behind.  As I leave this home, I leave behind my most recent memories of being with her.  It is time, I know this.  But it was unexpected, this resurgence of grief, and like falling through any trap door, whether it be the pool of alligators or a mere one foot drop onto cement – ouch.