Lifting the Veil

Well. After that last little post, maybe it is time for me to call the "waaaaaaa-mbulance", as my first graders say. Pitiful! Sometime when I am at an emotional spike, my filter (and "Publish Post" button) are not fully engaged.

So, now we will be discussing The Progress in this journey through grief. I had a student's dad a few years ago tell me he admired my use of bullets in my classroom newsletters: concise and to the point information. He was a professor at UT, so I'm guessing that was a huge compliment. For your viewing pleasure today? Bullets.

• My ability to hold information in my brain is improving. I was able to finish a complete book, and have begun a new one. And if you give me a little time, I might even remember the title.
• I have cancelled Netflix after having two DVDs sit untouched for three weeks. This is in marked contrast to the past several months when I worked my way through six seasons of Ally McBeal. A friend had suggested if  I watched something with a continuing plotline, maybe I could keep up. Since I don't watch "Lost", "America's Top Model" or "Biggest Loser", a completed, cancelled series fit the bill. (And Donnie Osmond winning "Dancing With the Stars" last fall? Well, that tracked as well.)
• I removed plastic tarps from one bedroom to begin preparations for The Graduation next week. I'll be having overnight guests, and they will have to be able to breathe while they sleep.
• I was so inspired, the next night I removed tarps from the dining room. If I hurry, I may actually eat a home-cooked meal at a table this year.
• I could continue in my tarp de force,  but the clean up produced another bullet:
• There is a house under all the dust produced by the continuing removal of popcorn ceilings throughout the house. I had forgotten what it looked like. And I love it very much.

You see, bullets aside, my goal has been to finish the remodel of our home in honor of D. And as it slowly emerges, I realize that a Happier Me is also coming forward. Nine months of grief seems to be giving birth to happier memories when I sort through D's possessions.

It's been easier to let sleeping tarps lie, and cover everything in the house. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. But cleaning up is helping me see things with new eyes. Like actually having the energy to clean again. 

When Married Daughter and her husband  come for graduation next week, it will be the first trip in over three years that didn't involve surgeries, hospital visits or a funeral. We can concentrate on just The Happy this time. But we do wish D was here to share it with us.

Pain endures through the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.

And it is not muffled by plastic tarps.