Spicy Dragons & Dinosaurs

So much of what I am doing this week brings home again and again the time that process takes. My process of grieving. My process of doing blissful work. Julia's process of healing. Julia's process of learning. Sometimes, just sometimes, I can quiet my terribly monkey mind, and sit with the notion of process. The idea of the journey sits upon my soul.

The other day after I put all of the black plastic bags full of David's clothes into the car but before I dropped them off, I took Julia to clinic. And in her newly minted aware style, she asked what was in the bags. I told her Daddy's clothes and she asked, "He doesn't need them anymore?" We went through a round of how he was not coming home, what happened to his heart, and how sad she/I/we are that he died. At one turn, she asked if Daddy wanted to live more and she accepted my statement that he wanted to live very much but that his heart just could not keep pumping. "It was hurt?" "Yes." "So hurt that it died?" "Yes." "How is your heart, Mommy." "Very, very strong, Julia. Just like yours."

Process.

Julia is not strong on metaphor. We were sitting together after school yesterday, talking about her day and about her being a bit grumpy. I told her that she used to be very angry a lot of the time and these days, she seemed happier to me. She agreed that she was happier. Then, I said that I thought that she was happier because her heart was healing. And she told me that her heart didn't need to heal. It was just fine.

So, I re-phrased.

I am slowly becoming comfortable with the idea of allowing myself to be much less busy after the school year ends. Slowly, as LEND work wanes, I am beginning to live without assignments now. I admit to being a little scared to cut loose from tasks outside of the work of clearing my life and our family life. I need to center. I need to touch some fundamental bottom. Lots of cleaning inside and out. Lots of reorganizing, finding new patterns and places, making this new life. Daunting, inviting, necessary. The distractions that happily occupy me will wait. I will come back to those that are vital.

Yes, slowly becoming used to this idea of fallow time as a necessity.