I've finally come up for air, climbing out of that deep, dark place. It's been an easier week. Partly because my wisdom tooth extraction finally stopped hurting; partly because I finally recovered completely from the flu; partly because the manager at the office of the Parliamentary Health Ombudsman kept saying Catherine's name during our phone conversation. He probably has no idea how much it meant to me to hear her name. There were other reasons too, but you get the idea.
Going back to feeling a bit more cheerful, all I can really say is what I often say: Grief is spiral journey, and you don't know when you're going to end up in a dark place, but eventually you come out into a slightly brighter space.
Going back to feeling a bit more cheerful, all I can really say is what I often say: Grief is spiral journey, and you don't know when you're going to end up in a dark place, but eventually you come out into a slightly brighter space.
Snowdrops peeking out of Catherine's grave; bittersweet teardrops.
