A few weeks ago I was going through a particularly low period. One morning late in the week I woke up crying, I cried through yoga, I cried in the shower, I cried on the way to work, I cried between patients... and so went my day. Small talk was beyond me, it's difficult to be interested in someones vacation in that kind of mood.
As I neared the end of the work day I was running out of steam, and was to the point of counting minutes. I went to bring the next patient back, one I had never met. She was a regal elderly woman with short cropped white hair, but her main feature that struck me was her crystal blue eyes, the kind you could see right through, almost like a husky's. I remember thinking she reminded me of an angel. While waiting for the doctor at the end of the appointment, she asked about the marine's picture on the wall. I told her of my son, and she told me of hers. Her son had passed away 8 years ago of prostate cancer, again I cried. We only had a few minutes to chat, but she said so much. It didn't change my mood totally, but it helped.
The following week, I recieved a letter from my angel. I have always thought of my grief as a wave and what she sent describes it the way I couldn't. "Real grief is not easily comforted. It comes like ocean waves rushing up the sand, subsiding back, only to roll in again. These waves vary in size, frequency, and intensity. Some are small, lapping up around the feet. Others are stonger, they foam the water around you and cause you to stagger. Then there are the overwhelming waves with an undertow that can turn your world upside down and drag you out into deep water." She found this in "From Grief to Glory" by James W Bruce III. It described me perfectly at the time, and I did find comfort in it.
I want to thank my angel, you rescued me from going out to sea.
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