What I notice most about missing my son is how much energy it seems to take.
I have a lot of work to do on the house. I’d like to get a couple chapters further on my novel, or work an extra shift to pay more college expenses, or go out with friends. But I don’t, because I’m so tired.
I’m not a stranger to grief. As a hospice nurse, I spend my work day with grieving people. I’ve been through it before when my marriages ended and when my father died. And still, it kind of surprises me that I can’t just will myself to get up off the couch and DO something.
I tell my hospice families that there is no easy way through grief, but there are less difficult ways.
For me, that means feeling what I feel. Not distracting myself from the discomfort.
My son came by last night with a friend to gets some of his stuff. He looks healthy and excited about the new adventure he is on.
I will be okay. Maybe after this next nap.