The Fog

This is a repost.  Recently I was reminded again of that feeling of being in a fog.  A dear friend described her feeling as being separated from the world by a string.  There was her dealing with grief and then there was the world around her.  In this season, remember to give yourself and others an extra measure of grace.  Blessings, Brenda.

In January, my garden is shrouded in a dense fog.   All the colors of the garden fade to gray.  It is winter and the trees are bare. Tendrils of fog weave their way through the barren limbs.

The fog lasts for days. The cold and wet seeps into the bones. The fog obscures the full view of the vines, shrubs, and trees.

After I lost my oldest son in a fatal car crash, my world became veiled in darkness not unlike the Tule fog of the Central Valley winter.  My thoughts and emotions were in constant turmoil.  Time seemed to stand still.  I was aware of what was going on around me but not present.

Even now, I make the motions of living life but always, swirling around me, is the haze of fog.  I literally feel like I am under some sort of see through blanket.  I am breathing and seeing the world happen around me but not truly experiencing life.  The grief clouds my thoughts.  I am in a fog. Grief fog.

Through God’s grace I have made it this far.  I have been surrounded by family and friends loving me and encouraging me.  People who knew other moms dealing with loss helped me make connections to women who set aside their own grief to lend me their shoulders, their ears, their comfort. I have connected with women on line who have become friends, truly.  Women who have faced their deepest fear and survived.

As winter draws to a close, the air warms, the fog burns off, the sun shines.  Right now, I am looking forward to the dissipation of the foggy haze that muddles my thoughts.  There are days of hazy sunshine.  I am blessed.  I try to remember that.  If I forget, I need only look around to see all that life has in store.