It’s been two months since the world lost my brother. Life has been full since then — trips to be with family, birthing classes, baby showers, a bachelorette party, a wedding, and hosting my 17-year-old stepson’s birthday party to name a few of the scheduled events. It’s been overwhelming, busy, and has included a whole host of emotions.
When I first returned to Nashville after Joel’s funeral, I wanted to immediately plunge back into work as I looked for a distraction from the new normal that I was being forced into. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that wasn’t working, and taking the time to grieve right now is of utter importance both for me and for the baby I carry.
And so I did it — I took the ultimate step to take time for myself. I quit my job, giving myself a month off before my due date. This is a scary step for me. I’m forced to trust and depend on John in a new way. I’m forced to deal with the loss of my brother differently, more deeply. I’m forced to unpack the baby gifts we’ve received, each piece of packaging disposed of with hesitation as the fragility of life remains so freshly in my peripheral vision. I’m forced to work through the paralyzing reality of how very short life is and the value that each moment holds.
I’m trying to welcome this time — a sabbatical of sorts where I can care for myself and this little one, and later begin my yoga teaching career and explore freelance options with my design and web career.
But first, I’m gonna take all the naps.