They say everyone grieves in their own way. I believe it. I don't expect anyone to udnerstand it. I surely did not, until I was faced with real, personal, life altering grief. It's something so personal that I can never find the words to make anyone understand what my world has been like for the past 14+ months. So for the most part, I haven't tried.
I will say that it's sort of true, what I've herad about time. Not that time can heal all wounds. The wound I have won't be healed until resurrection day. But I do think that time teaches us how to walk a new normal. My new normal entails missing my child, every day. Every day. This is my normal. I'm learning how to walk it.
For almost a year I couldn't answer the front door or pick up the phone. I did a good job of pushing most everyone to a safe distance so I could cocoon myself in what felt like the safest place and way to grieve. I'm still cocooning to a large degree. I don't feel bad about it. I know that somehow, somewhere I'll emerge a changed creature.
To the rest of the world, the life I shed when Hazel died, it must appear that I've simply gone away. It must seem that I ceased living, believing and loving. It's true. I've been away. But not to a place they know. And so I couldn't take any of them there with me.
I've been away. I'm trying to walk a new normal. And so, my little blog, here I am. Feeling strong enough to at least take to the keyboard again. I won't speak of my cocooned life often here. Here, I will try to piece together some parts of the new normal that is my homeschool My homeschool without little Hazel, where I will never smooth her hair during stories or introduce her to numbers. But my homeschool, where my remaining four still learn *something* each day. My every day homeschool. Where every day I am home without her.
Well then. Shall we proceed?