consuming

For the last few years, my grief has seemed predictable. 

I could start to anticipate the hard days. 
The week before Jonathan's birthday...April 1st...the day he passed...and then every day from Halloween until News Year's day. 

The thickness of the grief during the holidays seems to evaporate every January 1, and I feel like I can breathe again. I was never really a fan of January until Jonathan passed. It's now my favorite month. It is refreshing. It means I'm a survivor. I survived another round of holidays without my boy, and I can finally exhale. 

But just as I think I can predict my grief and anticipate it's arrival, it changes. 

This year, the holidays were a whirlwind. I feel like I blinked, and it's now 2019. Perhaps it's because Miss Charlotte was here and divided my attention this year. Or perhaps it was a combination of that and Charles breaking his collar bone the week before Christmas. For the past four weeks of his recovery, I have been in survival mode.

I feel like I haven't had time to grieve. I've been trying to survive my day to day...week to week. I've been taking care of everyone, I haven't had time to take care of me.

Just as I was looking forward to the freshness of January, I find that I am deeply missing my sweet baby boy. 

Just when I think my grief is predictable, my grief is consuming.