Little Sadnesses

photo: Priscilla du Preez on Unsplash

Each day has a little sadness, un peu de chagrin.  Reminders of what is lost.  Reminders of what we'll never do together again.

I've told you about the loss of travel -- and now that I'm promoting my new book, Sentenced to Venice, I'm aware of that loss every day -- of all the beautiful moments we experienced together, of our perfect fit as traveling friends, him making the schedule as I figured out how to get to the museums, restaurants, and hotels.

On Monday evenings I facilitate an Education for Ministry class at Trinity Episcopal Church.  Each week when I return home and say, "I've been in class," he asks me, "What class are you taking."

I say that these are "little sadnesses" because I have accepted our current situation -- "it is what it is."  Thus, I can be happy and feel blessed for its positive aspects -- that he is sweet and in a good mood most of the time and not difficult to care for as yet.  There was a time in the recent past when every one of these little knocks would spin me into getting high and I became addicted to weed.  I'm now in recovery though I still miss it.

But every so often these small sadnesses accumulate into a great grief for all the losses and I have a good, long cry.