Yesterday was an unusual day.
Lots of activities going on, which is good. A huge party/celebration for the community after church, complete with bouncy houses, cotton candy, pie-eating contests, lots of food, lots of candy -- just an all around fun/crazy time.
And a chat with a friend I haven't seen for awhile who recently became a widow.
And then last night was packing Operation Christmas Child boxes, which also included a whole lot of crazy activity, and a bunch more not-necessarily-healthy food.
And a chat with a friend who I see frequently, who has been a widow for a bit over a year now.
In both of those chats, we discussed loss, grief, dealing with things. The recent widow seems to be at a pretty good place right at this moment. The not-as-recent one had a rough day because of a birthday party, and seeing folks that she and her husband had done things with for a lot of years.
It occurred to me last night, as I did my traditional hug and "Goodnight, my 14-year-old" routine with my middle child, that my mom won't be calling him tomorrow to wish him a happy birthday. And that means I won't be talking to her tomorrow either.
This grief thing is weird. It takes happy occasions and makes them hard sometimes. And from talking with that second friend, I know this is a long-term thing.
Maybe by writing this out, I'll get my crying done here in the middle of the night, and tomorrow I can be happy with my birthday boy. And not cry when Dad calls. I doubt I'll pull off the last one though.