For a time, sometimes a long time, grief can leave you in a fog. Memories are all you have and the pain is gut wrenching as the sobs pull the breath from your lungs until they collapse in the dead weight of your chest.
You don’t want to, but you get up everyday and you put one foot in front of the other and you move forward, resting often, sighing heavily, straining to act.
But, you are doing this a miniscule step at a time. Every inhale and exhale is a healing force.
Where there’s breath there is hope. Where there is hope, I will create gratitude, for where there is gratitude, I will find peace.