I am very slowly learning that grief requires A LOT of active work to process. Time alone does not heal wounds this big, you have to want to heal. So, this week I decided to push myself. The grief will never leave me but I can choose to change my mindset around it. Today I’m reflecting on one happy memory and how it procured one of the many gifts Adelaide gave us in her life: perspective. Will this help me move through this grief limbo? Who the heck knows, but it’s worth a shot.

Last night a friend asked me where I was in the grieving process. I explained that I had moved past the debilitating phase where getting out of bed is a struggle and slothing is a legitimate activity, but I still wasn’t me. I’ve taken up residence in some sort of grief limbo: going through the essential motions of life, committing to what is absolutely needed of me but fighting to go further. In this post get ready for an honest and slightly rambling look inside my  mind over three months into this new normal.

Grief is complicated. Understatement, I know, but here we are. I’ve spent the better part of the last six weeks trying to fill my time and distract myself, but I realize now that to move forward I need to face my contradictory emotions. An inchstone at a time I have to do this.

November 18th had been looming in my calendar: CURE’s annual benefit, where I was scheduled to speak in front of 1,000 people. The theme for the evening was, “Taking Flight”, inspired by the name of one of CURE’s research grants that is awarded to a young investigator. Leading up to that night, I was feeling less like taking flight and more like failure to launch. However, in usual CURE form, it was an inspiring night and I am honored to have played a small part.

After the immediate aftermath and planning of Adelaide’s service, the love filled chaos of family and friends, powering through multiple trips and halloween thrown in the middle, I’m finally home and it’s quiet. Reality hit me like a freight train as I’ve struggled to envision my new normal without our medically driven routine and the corresponding lick-kisses. Where do we go from here?

As if going to Epilepsy Awareness Day at Disneyland after losing Adelaide wasn’t hard enough, it was supposed to have been her Make-a-Wish trip. When we finally came to terms with the fact that she would not be able to attend, her Make-a-Wish team came through with an extra-special early birthday party full of its own magic. This week we learned that Miss A’s magic lives on and is out there waiting for us - when we’re ready to find it.