Letting Go

My stepson has been getting Cecil's 1960 Chevy Impala ready for me to sell. Like all antique automobiles, working on it is a challenge, and a three day project is now going into day five.

It was going to be hard to sell the car anyway, but the challenges this event has presented have hit me harder than I expected.

I hate that along with losing my husband, I have to give up the antique cars too. But I don't have the skills to work on them, and I am afraid to drive them, and they belong to belong to someone who will love them and drive them, not let them sit in garages and slowly deteriorate.

My heart is breaking a little more. I wonder how many cracks a heart can stand before it shatters.

There is nothing easy about this journey.

I have tried to write a little - I really want to get my books finished and out there - but I think it will be 2024 before a book is ready to go. I forgive myself.

This journey through grief keeps demanding I extend more grace to myself. I'm not used to doing that. I am used to demanding that I toughen up and get the job done - no whining.

Grief doesn't allow that. At least this grief doesn't. So I am forgiving myself for any deadline missed, any goal not reached. And I am learning this complicated grief has so many facets I hadn't anticipated.