To the guy who saw me crying on the bus...

"A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles". ~Christopher Reeve

At least I wasn't sobbing? I suppose it must be a bit awkward to turn around and see someone with tears flowing but... ah well. 

The contents of my handbag today:

- wallet

- keys

- 1 lipstick

- 4 pens

- a notepad

- a mini umbrella

- my telephone bill (which I really must remember to pay tomorrow)

- my Kindle

No tissues whatsoever. No napkins. No handkerchiefs. I usually have but I'm not sure what happened today. It's always when you need stuff that stuff disappears. 

I didn't have my car today and it was the first time in quite some time that I had to use public transportation. Yay for air-conditioned buses! Yay also for cute guys who think Kindles make awesome birthday presents because, yes, they do. Having a Kindle means that I can have any amount of reading material with me at any given time... it is fabulous. 

Going up on the bus today, I finished reading the The Stories: Five Years of Original Fiction - I've been reading this collection of short stories over the past few weeks and now I'm done. Whilst waiting on persons for my meeting I started reading Losing Mom: a family's journey of transition, hope & perseverance... it's one of a few books on dealing with cancer and grief and self development that I had started reading before being sidetracked by scifi and fantasy short stories. It's an incredibly beautiful read; a story in which five siblings explore illness, loss, grief and acceptance of their mother's death. I think that each and every page reflected some emotion or thought that I have had myself. It's written from the perspective of the youngest sibling who, from the ages of eight through  twenty-one, had interviews with her siblings which let them learn to talk to each other about their grief and to discover their thoughts on how their mother's death affected life choices and shaped whatever decisions they made. It created a space for them to be supported and comforted.

My brother was eight when my mom was first diagnosed; I was thirteen. Many people have remarked on the fact that we are very close - I read this book today (yes, I finished it on the bus ride back to my office) and thought that our closeness is partly due to my mom's illness. To my stepping in where needed. To shared experiences of hospital visits and crazy treatments and the eventual knowledge that she had to move on. We haven't really talked about her life or her passing in any great detail... it's a conversation I think I'd like to have at some point. I'm not ready yet and before I get there I'll probably pass on this book... it's a really great read for anyone who has lost a parent.

Grief comes in waves... it simmers below the surface and then rises up when something triggers it - a car commercial or a book about siblings who have lost their own mother. In my heart I know she's with me but I miss having her physical presence around.

To the guy who saw me crying on the bus... it couldn't be helped.

peace,

Ren