Sadness and Grief

There are times and topics that make me want to lay in the middle of the floor and stay there until... who knows.

I have yet to take that option.

Yesterday at a mental health facility a patient opened the door to his balcony, looked down, turned around, and laid down in the middle of the hallway until someone came and sat with him.

He said he wasn't going to because he was afraid.

What's stopping me?

I have no idea what will come of and in my life. Compared to most, I haven't lived long. The not knowing means things could go to shit. But they already have before. And yet when they did, there were moments that made me want to run and jump and dance and, more than anything, stay.

Looking at two people I love giving each other comfort. Seeing the brightest blue bird I'd ever seen. A quiet moment with a coffee and my dog. The quiet, idle humming of a man I love. My families shaky steps forward and milestones.

I don't want these things to go unnoticed or unappreciated. So I keep staying. I resist the urge to lay down and stop for ever. I know the smaller world of the people who know me would be darker without me. I know the thoughts that tell me otherwise are temporary and I am more patient than they.

Jesus, what maudlin trifle. Ah well, now it's out and gone. I'll forget this mood and moment. And then let my grief out in another deluge of sap. And again look out across the world and think there are too many things to experience to lay down and do nothing for as long as I sometimes want to.