It's probably a little bit of everything

The grieving feeling started again last week. I seem to have much longer periods without it and then it comes and stays for a few days at a time. It's not typically intense, but subtle feelings might well up each day once it's begun. I don't know if it's because there are a series of days when reminders happen day-after-day, or if I become more sensitive to things around me, or if once it's started it needs to reach a peak before it recedes. In this stretch I guess I've been experiencing reminders each day.

Saturday I met my niece Amanda for lunch in Lake George. At a restaurant I saw a photograph of the lake which reminded me of hiking, swimming and boating adventures that Robin and I had experienced there. After lunch Amanda and I sat on a pier in Bolton Landing and chatted. From our vantage point I could see Tongue Mountain, the Narrows and Shelving Rock. We talked some about "Aunt Robin" and I told Amanda observations that Robin had relayed to me about their hikes together. At one point tears welled up in my eyes which I wiped away. First the right eye, then the left eye, then the right eye, then the left eye. I don't know if Amanda noticed or not, these days it doesn’t interfere with my ability to talk.

On top of some daily reminders in the last week, I also haven't been exercising or blogging much - I think both of these activities provide an outlet for me. So when I felt I lot of extra energy today I decided to get in some exercise and a short bike ride. By the time I got the bike outdoors I was psyched to be going out. One last item - I saw the mail and decided to bring it indoors. I flipped through the stack and saw a letter from a local address. I decided to open it and found a wonderful two-page letter from one of Robin's clients who had just recently learned about her death. Reading the letter brought tears to my eyes. What a wonderful thing for people to have been so impacted by Robin's life and her work as a massage therapist.

I left on the bike ride with an even higher level of energy. I found myself pushing harder than ever, up and around the familiar six-mile course. I knew I was pushing hard but I wouldn't realize how much so until I got home and found my legs weak and wobbly as I got off the bike.

I proceeded to get some water and sat on the back porch, and that's when the crying really started. I can't remember the last time it had been this intense. The cool temperature today made the streaming on my cheeks felt even hotter. The whole experience of crying is a lot different these days. It seems somewhat detached from feelings of happiness or sadness - it just happens in the moment, it just is.

In these moments I still ponder the question of what's going on in people's heads when they are grieving. Is it crying in sympathy for the person who is gone? Is it crying for the personal feeling of missing the person? Is it crying at the realization of our own mortality? The question seems unanswerable - but something tells me it's probably a little bit of everything.

I think this is probably just what I've needed for the past week. Afterwards I took a shower, put on some comfortable clothes (including my "life is good" boxer shorts!) and took it easy for the evening.