It’s Labor Day here in the United States, and I should be pleased to get another day off work, but I’m far from elation. I just got off the phone with my dear Mother and caught up on life’s musings, and we spoke about my sweet Grandmother in length. I love talking about her, although even with a cheerful face I find it rather hard to fight back my teary eyes. As I sit here now typing away in my still-numbed daze over my family’s recent tragedy, it’s proving difficult to write with any conviction or fluidity.

I miss her.

There are days when I feel I’m hanging in there, being kept busy at the office without a second thought for anything other than making money (I feel ashamed for admitting that). Unfortunately there are days like today when I’m gripped by grief and a deep sense of loss. Should I be making a more concerted effort to remember her, to talk about her? I feel more often than not when I reflect upon what’s happened that that’s exactly what I should be doing - to connect in some way, to remember. Or is it simply that this is the way I am supposed to “handle it”.

One thing I am certain of is when I do remember her, I smile.