I am coming back to "pen" a blog entry while I am in a weird state of mind. For the most part, life is full of joy and blessings. I have been making strides on my personal growth and health. My eating is healthy, my activity level is the most it has ever been in my life, my weight has dropped and my muscles have grown (some of which I never knew I had). I am really close to having my hours complete for my full professional license which means I am within reach of being able to establish a private practice. Sherman, my four-legged, carrot eating, hopping child, is sweet as can be and quite the cuddling mush-face. He's healthy and happy and, despite chewing through lots of stuff he's not supposed to, he is such a joy to have in the family. Hopes and dreams are being fulfilled all around. New plans are in the making and I keep recognizing new potential within myself and the Universe.
Then there is the inevitable sadness of loss. When a loved one is in the twilight of life, even the most expected outcome is difficult to process and accept. When someone who was a spunky spark-plug for 90-plus years is ready for hospice care, your heart breaks. As I write these words, I notice that the language I am using by not talking specifics or writing it from first-person experience is proof positive that I am trying to protect myself. I am ready, but I am not ready to say goodbye. But sometimes we have no choice.