Is It Possible to Outrun the Grief?

I most recently took a break from my life and went on a trip to Spain.  After severe grief for 783 days since Dean passed, 762 days since Dad passed and 156 days since Tia left my world, I thought a vacation might change the energy of my chronic anguish.  I have to say, leaving town put my emotional state on pause, with occasional bursts of tears that I hid behind my sunglasses and from well intentioned eyes.  The excitement of visiting a country of my heritage was a distraction and I crossed one more thing off my bucket list.  I didn’t intentionally block my feelings, but focused on all that was new and exciting around me. I wanted to feel alive and happy.  The visit to my father’s ancestor’s homeland was amazing and magical.  But after eighteen days, I was ready to come home.

As I merged back into my normal routine, I was frustrated that sadness had seeped back into my soul.  I felt I had turned a corner on my emotional journey in taking the long-anticipated vacation, and that things would be better once I was back home. 

But that is the thing about grief.  It’s uncontrollable in its power over me and I can’t make it disappear. 

I struggle with reconciling that as a living being trying to be happy, how am I to get past losing what I had vs what I have now?  There is no replacement for the love of my daughter, husband and father.

While walking my dog earlier today, I felt the sun on my body and heard the birds chirping in the woods next to my house.  I soaked in the beauty of nature and felt grateful for warm weather that normally acts like a serotonin boost.  I’m glad to be home and grateful for so much in my life.

Instantaneously, a memory flashed through my mind, and I recollected a similar day in the past that reminded me of feelings I had three years ago.  Dean and I had worked so hard to grow our company and business was booming.  The summer weather, the busy workload  and all that we were at that moment.  We were so excited that our hard work was paying off and that every small task we had accomplished was finally morphing into our dream of success.  I smelled the air and cut grass, felt the warmth of the sun and listened to the sounds all around me of construction, airplanes, muted voices, birds chirping, lawnmowers running and cars humming by.  All the sensory stimuli cumulated into a deep-seated memory of past happiness.  It hit me in an instant and along with the recollection, pain stabbed my gut like a knife. 

Once I experienced remembrance, it segued into another.  Tia, picking me up at my old house to take me on a road trip with all the kids, trying to cheer me up, knowing I was sad. 

I am angry.  She is gone too. 

The pain saturated my mid-section and moved into my head.  Even though it is sharp, it recedes a little faster than in the past and I cling to the knowledge that I might be making progress.

I ready to move, selling my current home, only one year old and buying another in a different city.  I continue to try and outrun the grief wherever I go.