Look Away

Some days I just have to look away. Daily obligation of life demand some momentum. Grief breaks the flow. From time to time I am able to jog; I wouldn't say run, definitely not sprinting, but jogging through a day is accurate. I'm content with jogging. The pace feels good.

In years past I would run and sprint. In fact, I ran downhill. Imagine a person running downhill-envision the arms wildly flailing, hands grabbing at air for balance, feet stepping on who knows what, and legs dangerously close to serious injury. Eyes bouncing out of focus never seeing the view, impervious to obstacles. That was me. No time for serious consideration to anything worth doing, just impacting. I like jogging.

Jogging through life enables one to accept help from others. "My way or the highway" as Aaron used to interpret my demands has no place in a life of jogging. Jogging allows time for reflection and contemplation. Part of grief work has been to learn to live differently and accept living differently as a better way. If I tried to go back to a down-hill-sprint attitude to life, nothing would fit and the conflicts would be mind bending.

A reality though is even at the pace of a slow jog, I have to look away some days. I have to look away from pictures of my son Aaron. I love him but when I see his face somedays I just lose my composure. Oh, not all of the time, but you never know. It happens to all of us. The shocking truth that he's gone when his picture looks so fresh and the desire to feel his presence is so powerful, is heartbreaking. Always will be I am told. I understand.

So I jog through life and am learning to enjoy the view. Some days I look at the pictures, the memories, the dreams,... and some days I look away.

Peace
Tom