Sunny Days are Here Again…

The front(s) that brought hail, wind, cold drizzling rain (we did need the moisture!) have moved out and I gaze upon blue skies this a.m.  Wind is still blowing through trees dressed in fewer leaves (compliments of the hail), pushing the storm far to the east.

Colorado has it all – in the past few days, during overlapping time frames, our state weather map included the following:

  • Tornado Advisory
  • Hail Advisory
  • Winter Storm Warning
  • Thunderstorm Watch
  • Flash Flood Watch
  • High Fire Danger
  • High Wind Advisory

Because of late snows and heavy rains, I’m sure some areas probably had concerns about mud slides, falling rocks and/or avalanche warnings, too.

For myself, I’m grateful this a.m. because the winds that blew these storms through have, somehow, managed to blow the stink off me.

I awoke this morning to realize I’m done being in a funk – at least for now.


A Gratitude Tuesday post by fellow blogger Malinda Essex, came on the heels of my decision that enough is enough, I simply must pull myself out of this funk.   Years spent riding one wave of loss after another has left me tired and somewhat disheartened.   This morning I awoke to the mental reminder, “Yes, but you always manage to get back on track.   You just have to do so one more time.”

The next thought was no surprise, “How do I get off track in the first place?”


While my initial answer is completely rooted in the world exterior to myself (Loss of loved ones), closer examination reveals what alternate routes I choose when Death and other losses enter the arena of my life:

  • Pretend Positive Outlook (smiling when I’d rather be crying)
  • Denial of the need to grieve the loss sustained
  • Intense bouts of creative thought, followed by furious ‘doing’ to distract myself from my inner need to grieve
  • Over-doing  leads to exhaustion and illness.
  • Exhaustion/Illness mean no energy to keep up the Positive facade (which is not energy efficient anyways)
  • Tired, spent and grumpy beyond all belief, I sink into a funk, with few, if any reserves, left to haul myself out.

Interesting, all the detours I make when I could have just sat down, cried, been in a funk for a day or two and then decided, “Where do I go from here?”

I’ve long been aware I will take any detour that shows up along the path of my life – I’ve always thought detours were where you found the neatest things on road trips.

Yet I still bemoan the detours I take in my attempt to push through Grief, rather than sitting beside him for awhile.


I’m once more reminded of the poem, Along the Road, by Robert Browning Hamilton:

I walked a mile with Pleasure
She chattered all the way,
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she;
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!


And so, fresh from yet another instructional detour with Sorrow, I wend my way back to the nearest station and sit in the sun, thoughtfully considering which train to board next.


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