I haven't completely settled into this new post-TTC life, you know. That's not to say that I'm not productive and busy, or that I'm without happiness or purpose or song. It's just that, gee whiz, moving on from the TTC life — which to me now also includes my pre-TTC life, which in turn includes the vision of life-with-family I somehow always had, even before I opened my eyes to it — is a more arduous task than I expected.
As for the grieving process, I did that up right, let me tell you. I felt it. Or more to the point, I let myself feel it. (Something I haven't always done when I should.)
True, there's no distinct end to grieving deep-down loss of any kind. It will always be there. It will always be not there. But despite having come a long, LONG way since last year at this time, I'm still wondering when. WHEN do I truly cross over into the light? No, not into the big white light. (Not ready!) Just into a rough approximation of the light I always lived in before, even during the darkest of times.
I know the light is there, waiting for me to reconnect to it. I feel it glancing my face sometimes, maybe even every day now. But I'm still living with a heaviness that keeps me in check. I walk around with that hint of a lump in my throat, that vague ache in my gut. Tiny afflictions that others can't really see. Well, that's not true. I'm sure others see those things in me. They just don't know it.
Oh, I smile easily, and I mean it when I do it. I just need to keep looking forward to looking forward to the day when my smile gets back to the business of being "my smile."