Grief

I often find in writing, as in meetings, that I know what I want to say, but don't know how to say it. It comes out in snipits.
Spiritual space. Spiritual space from my character defects. Spiritual space from my desire to isolate. Being given the strength to make phone calls. To realize that I don't have to face this grief alone. I can call program and non-program friends. I can ask people to be with me. I can grieve in wails, sobs, sniffles and stares into space. I can ask my Higher Power to give me the strength to be carried through this lose. I can share with other people. About how I feel. What I remember of her. And my tears. I can also share hugs, and let people know that I love them, because we never say it enough, do we? I love you. Three little words that carry so much weight, that many of us are afraid to say them. Afraid that the person listening won't hear what we mean when we say them. I love you. Three little words each of my family (blood and chosen) should hear from me, because I love each and everyone of them. Some of them in a very special way. I wonder if I start telling my friends this, how they'll take it. I tell my parents at the end of every phone call. I tell few friends.

Today, unlike four years ago, I know I don't have to face this alone. That I can ask other people how they have gotten through grief and lose, and I can share with others how I'm getting through. I can ask for help. I also know that staying up late and lamenting the whole night won't help anyone, especially me.