I had a gloomy spell yesterday afternoon. I was driving through the countryside on the way to hear music, and it swept over me. It was one of those moments such as you get watching a romantic comedy, where your eyes well up with tears at some sentimental thing. I missed my wife. It passed pretty fast, but it was a bit of a surprise. My days lately have been really good. Tearless, relatively speaking.

I’m sorry to do this because I thought I was past grief episodes worth writing about, and I was really happy to write about my yard and stuff. I guess that shows you what I know. Anyway, I got to the house concert beneath some lovely trees in a nice neighborhood in good shape, but still feeling a little out of kilter. I started seeing people I loved. I was glad to see them, and they were glad to see me. Then a little ray of sunshine in the form of a small child caught sight of me and smiled. We talked for a bit, and I was back on track.

They call what happened to me a grief ambush. There are terms for everything. It’s part of the healing process. I think accepting that they’re going to happen is part of the process as well. But don’t count me as an expert this is my first go round. Although, I did lose my mother when I was 21. I simply don’t remember it being as traumatic as this. I think that’s another story. In the end, the day finished on an upbeat note, there were lots of warm hugs, and promises to see one another again, soon. And I was off to see what tomorrow might bring, feeling better.