Even though it is only the middle of August, there is a definite change in the air. There are leaves changing already and the woods have taken on the “tired green” of late summer, having spent their glorious stores of chlorophyll in the peak of summer. Yesterday dawned cloudy and relatively cool and soon the sky gifted us with a gentle rain that lasted most of the day. So much for mowing the lawn.

I’m sitting on the front porch at the farm as I write this, watching the goldfinches fight over the socks of thistle seeds. Boy Cat and Old Mama Kitty are keeping me company as I listen to the rain pattering on the leaves in the nearby woods. The sun is trying to break through and make its first appearance of the day, just shy of 5:00. Since I couldn’t mow, I drove to town and ran errands. I am hosting a Sisters on the Fly event September 7-10 and I needed to make arrangements. I have 23 women signed up so far and registration is still open if you would like to attend.

I felt much better today…stronger, better rested. I have been thinking about triggers and how they stimulate the grief response. At first, everything is a trigger. When you are in the acute stages of grief, your feelings are like a frayed electric cord, ready to shock you at the slightest touch. After some time, things even out a bit but it is still amazing how the tiniest thing can trigger grief. When you’ve had a long stretch without a meltdown, you can get a little complacent, thinking maybe you’re through all that. So  it kind of takes you by surprise when a new wave comes. That was what I felt over the weekend.

As I was driving through town yesterday, I was coming up to a stoplight when I heard an ambulance approaching. I stopped and waited for it to come through from my left and make the turn towards the hospital. There was an elderly man seated in the front passenger seat and I suddenly flashed back to the ambulance ride taking Mr. Virgo to the ER from the RV dealership where he had his heart attack. I hadn’t thought about that drive for quite some time. For a brief moment, my eyes met those of the man in the front seat and I recognized that panicked and confused look on his face. There was a slight set of the jaw that was familiar. “Ok, ok, ok….let’s get this done. Be strong. Just breathe.” At least, that’s what went through my mind when I was in his shoes.

I didn’t have a reaction to this trigger. I was prepared. It’ll be a while before I have another grief response, I imagine. I’m a bit more on guard now. That’s a relief of sorts. I hate when the wave comes unexpectedly. For now, I’ll sit on the porch and watch the rain as the light changes and the hummingbirds fight over the feeder…and wait for Mr. FixIt to call so I can start supper. History repeats itself and life goes on. ❤️

“And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.”
‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3:15‬ ‭ESV‬‬