Looks like nothing’s gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can’t do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I’ll remain the same, listen ~ Otis Redding

I’m officially in the next group. Not holding my breathe. I’ve been up since 4AM trying to locate a vaccine. Which, in itself, is funny. I’m a blue in a surrounded by red. But by golly, there’s not a single appointment within 50 miles. I guess self-preservation beats conviction.

I’m on 3 lists. Maybe I’ll get call today. Or not. It’s like the Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor. I had an opportunity, but my doctor blew it by not writing the approval letter even though we spoke about it on Monday.

In the meantime, I’ll just mentally put myself with Otis and enjoy the brilliant blue skies.

Peace.

And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time
‘Til touchdown brings me ’round again to find
I’m not the man they think I am at home
Oh, no, no, no
I’m a rocket man~ Sir Elton John

Feeling grief is probably one of the most human things we do. It’s a strange feeling that you may not recognize until the moment has passed. Grief may linger or shoot through your life like a rocket. Either way, grief leaves its mark.

People grieve over different things. Last week, some people were grieving over money lost on the GameStop run. There are television commercials, such as the one where a young woman is grieving her car “Brad” in an insurance commercial. A lot of people grieve material things, even briefly such as when the last cookie is eaten.

No one can tell another how to grieve or what to grieve. It’s an intensely personal process. I feel like 2020 was one big grieving moment for the world. People died. Livelihoods crumpled. In the United States, the whole political process gave us plenty to grieve. Around the globe, there is now a line dividing life before and after COVID. If you don’t feel some grief over 2020, I would be surprised because of all the activities of life that are still impacted by a virus.

Me, well, I have an odd way of compartmentalizing grief. It’s kind of like a ranking system. Sure, when my last coconut-caramel cookie is eaten I grieve. It’s different than other types of grief for me because I know I’ll be able to replace that cookie next year.

My first service dog passed two years ago. I’m still very much in the grieving process. One of my friends had to euthanize her first service dog last week. She is grieving by posting pictures on her social media. Every time I see one, I grieve for both of us.

I also grieve relationships. I once thought that family was forever and we’d always have each others’ backs. For almost a year I have been grieving the realization that that is a line from a television show. Reality is much harsher.

I am already grieving some changes that I know are coming. I’ve started to fill the sandbags I’ll need to hold back the flood of tears to come. At first, I thought this was fear. Then I realized that it was a slow creeping up of grief. This is profound grief. Life-changing grief.

So, what can we do? That depends on your world view. The Greeks used the word agape to describe unconditional love. Perhaps if we share more agape, we can heal some of the grief. Think how much relief we could feel if we lived with agape as our guide. I’m not a philosopher, but I think I’d feel pretty good receiving love right now.

It’s January 10. I made it a whopping 10 days. Like many, I’m still doing one step at a time. Some people can do a day at a time. Others can do a week at a time. I’m sure there are others who do more. Each person moves at their own pace. I’ve always told people that as long as you are moving forward, you’re successful.

Sometimes I’ve felt like a fraud. I’ve pasted on the smile (you know the one). I’ve talked the talk and walked the walk, even though it’s not real. Why do we teach our kids about “white lies?” Because life has taught us that we will get kicked around. We will be lied about. We will tell those “white lies.”

I lived most of my adult life trying to be what is now called authentic. I’ve also lived it trying to be “real.” Since I decided 2021 would be a year of reflection, here’s today’s reflection: I am enough.

Middle turns 22 today. It’s the second year he hasn’t been home for me to do the traditional birthday celebration. Sending a cake would be very messy. Convincing his roommate to string up balloons and banners would be hard. So a box of goodies went in the mail.

I want to say how proud I am of Middle. He is working in a small field of study. No easy routes to success. Hard work followed by more hard work. It’s funny when we try to talk about what he’s doing since the topic is so far outside of my understanding. He still laughs at my attempts to understand. A good thing, I guess.

Today I hope he looks back and sees how far he’s come. I hope he hears all of us cheering him on. It’s not been an easy or perfect path, but it is his path. And I’m really proud of him.

I think we all struggle with this. The situations are never cut and dried, so a template is useless. But we can learn from each other. We can learn through experience. It may not be fun, but it is possible.

I find that reading body language gives me mixed results. Is someone mad at me or restless when they have their arms crossed? Are they laughing with me or at me? Did it suddenly go quiet? Was it something I said or did?

Here’s what I have learned. Stop thinking YOU did something. It sets off a negative cycle that can end up in a really awkward place. Instead, move the conversation forward or excuse yourself (oh, hey, I see Frank over there!). Don’t dwell on it. There’s plenty of time while you are trying to fall asleep.