Grief is a wild ride. This is the tissue I pressed my face into last night after I sobbed about my dad who’s been gone for 4.5 years. I lay in bed and for whatever reason I started down the road of “why didn’t I get on a plane sooner?” And some other much more unkind thoughts. For whatever reason I had a flare up last night. I’m traveling overseas in a couple months and I keep thinking, what if my dog the love of my life dies while I’m away? It’s just so wacky being a human. Or some say being a spiritual being having a human existence. Grieving really has made me the most human. You never know when it will flare and when it happens to me I feel like I teeter on insanity, fantasy, otherworldlyness. For these tiny split seconds I think I could maybe go back in time and do it differently. It’s so childlike. This is what the tissue looked like after I sobbed and let myself fall apart and then realize I should wash my face. I booked my flight this week. I booked it to depart on my dads birthday. I’m scared to leave Isaac. I’m scared of a lot. (But also tremendously excited) I miss my dad. I wish I could do it differently, I wish I could go back. But I can’t so I have to forgive myself. It’s very human to be in denial. In some families more than others. I’m going to have a great trip. I’m going to get this tissue framed.