It's a mix...

What I mean, is that my days are a mix of "states of being."

I still have Sarah on my mind for lots of the hours. I still go to the cemetery every day with new flowers. Lately, though, I haven't had time to sit there very long. That will come again. I think one reason I'm doing it is because I'm afraid of going on about my life and being okay without her; not that there seems to be any danger of that happening any time soon. Life is going on, but the okay without her part, no.

I do have quite a bit of happiness in my life each day, including thoughts of Sarah. I can't even begin to explain all the new relationships, new stages of relationships, and actual new friends I have going on, as a direct result of Sarah's passing. That's weird. Great, but weird.

There is a book I purchased about 2 days after she died - "Annie G. Freeman's Fabulous Traveling Funeral" by Kris Radish. It's so odd - there must have been some kind of divine intervention going on when I bought it. I went to a store, where I rarely ever go, but which had an evening photo printing machine. I only had 6 photographs of Sarah, and none of them were with she and I together. They were some I took of her with her kids at my Dad's farm. I was in such a panic that somehow they would be lost, so I needed to print them. Anyway, I go into the store - red-eyed, and still crying, print the photos and head out. I also had just finished a book that day, which had helped me get a little calmed down or something at night so that I could get at least some sleep. Anyway, I wanted a new book to read, but what in the world would I get? I didn't want depressing at all, I didn't want fluff, I certainly didn't want boring. So this one called to me, and kept at it until I finally took it. It was almost as if it had legs and was jumping off the shelf.

The book is great. It's about how several women are drawn together as pallbearers for this mutual friend's ashes. Of course, they become friends, etc. but the imortant thing that it helped me realize so clearly was that friends come into and out of our lives at different times for different reasons - important reasons. It helped me remember that for sure, yes, I had been important to Sarah, and no doubt, she has to me. That in this case, like most, quality trumps quantity. Our 5 years together were too, too short, and they are not the same as anyone else's 5, 20 or 36. They were ours. That I can't lose.

I'm still in several of these "stages" (I hate that term for this...) I guess I'll just try to keep embracing whatever comes up. Hopefully, the angry parts will be channeled into something constructive, even positive. I'll try to remember her grace in tough situations.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.