Things are getting better. Slowly at times, but they are.
It's time to move on. To get going. As much as I've felt like moping around, my children need me. Opportunities have come to do what I love. I must do them.
It's easy for me to say this, because the grief -- while it still hits me at surprising times -- it gets a little lighter every day.
What has helped me has been all the people that surround me. That includes you.
So thank you.
Another thing that has helped me has been writing.
But one of the many things I have learned in this is that out of all the things my father left behind, it is his handwritten words that have meant the most.
He didn't have a blog, of course. But he left behind his computers, lots of emails, a phone. You know, the things we all use every day. A digital trail.
But there are precious few scraps of paper with his handwriting. It is these that I treasure.
I was worried about looking at his clothes. The shoes we bought together exactly a month ago. I worried about holding his glasses, about sitting in his car, slipping his rings on my fingers. I did all these things. And I felt precious little.
The truth is that the things he left behind haven't affected me much.
But the most intimate and most precious things I have found are the words written with his own hand.
It has got me thinking.
I am starting to journal again. On paper. With ink.
The blog? It's not going anywhere. It has its place. I love sharing my words with the world. I will continue with my 10/10/10 project and continue to share it with you all. I will continue to write about the little everyday details that inspired this blog in the first place.
Blogs/Facebook/Email? They are great to communicate. I'm not quitting them either. After all, they brought me all your words as quickly and efficiently as I needed them.
But I need for some of my words to be tangible. To last. To not be at the mercy of technology.
I am going back to journaling.
Nothing beats pen and paper.