A week after Bella’s passing, someone I love (immensely) had an extensive surgery done at a private clinic as an outpatient. 

In the depths of grief for my cinnamon girl, I was catapulted into a full-time caregiving role for an already particularly medically high-maintenance person.

The two of us are giving “living room” entirely new meaning as we bunk out here ensuring that every call for assistance is heard as he has to sleep upright on the couch; one of the post-surgical realities is that he is unable to move his arms, and we joke that he has the dexterity of a T-Rex.

It was an enormous victory when we discovered that “T-Rex” can reach everything on this one particular corner of the kitchen island, and thus, a central station has been established, allowing him a moment of autonomy and the ability to meet some small simple needs.

Today, is day ten after the procedure, and we are celebrating post-op double-digits!

But in the midst of that milestone, I would be remiss to not acknowledge that this has been a lot for my tender grieving heart.

A lot.

A friend of mine remarked about how many profound portals I’m navigating in rapid-fire succession.

Today I am grateful for witnesses that offer poignant reflections.

I am grateful for tiny healing milestones and the soft laughter that rises watching him using his toes to retrieve phone charging cord.  Or a simple empowered moment, as with his teeth he moves his drinking straw from one water jar to the next.

I also acknowledge and honour, the gift hat beautiful cinnamon-girl of mine, the gesture, the sacrifice, of holding this space for me to be of such service.

A touching full-circle completion, to her lifetime of service to this family, and particularly, the one currently healing.

Thumpity thump thump…

Thumpity thump thump…

Beats my tender, grateful heart.