I am okay. I'm doing better than last week, and each day brings a little more healing, a little more perspective. I haven't been posting because I don't have much to say, and writing about smaller, everyday things feels odd to me.
I keep waiting to want to post about something else: family, recovery, life. There is certainly a lot to say. But just like there are moments where I can't understand how the world just keeps on going without my Dad in it, I have a hard time finding the right time to switch gears, stop writing about grief and loss when those two things are dominating my world at the moment.
Not writing about it feels like saying good-bye, and I don't want to say good-bye, even though I know I have to.
So I will start with something small. A silly thing.
Who is who? One is me at eight years old, and the other is Greta, yesterday: