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Week 167: Room at the Table




Last week the grief waves hit harder.


This week, the waves were just ocean.


Still there. Still vast. But not crashing over my head or knocking me back. Just steady. Something I could stand in without bracing.


I went back to the empty nest — and I actually enjoyed it.


We had friends over to watch the Oscar Best Picture nominees, and I have to ask… why are most of them so weird? When did stories stop making sense? I’m craving depth and heart without feeling disoriented. I did love Frankenstein. It felt layered and human. 


Bruce and I took long walks. After taking his mom to get her hair done, we drove to the coast on a whim and hiked in that windy, brilliant sunshine. Standing there watching the water, I realized it matched my week. Not calm. Not flat. Just steady. Powerful, but not violent.


We wandered through Half Moon Bay — crystal shops, crafty stores, little card racks that make my heart pitter patter. I love places where beauty is arranged on purpose.


We stopped at the nursery to visit Bruce’s dad. Put flowers on his headstone. Said hello. Grief stood beside me, but gently.


I brought tulips home for the coffee table — drapey, soft, full of color. A small insistence that life keeps blooming.


I had a girls’ night. A pickleball date. I laughed more than I expected.


And then I dreamed about Lil. In the dream I needed to call her. When I woke up, there was that split second before reality settles back in. I’ll probably make an appointment with a medium soon. Not because I’m unraveling — just because when the ocean is steady, you can listen.


My son is walking through his first heartbreak, and watching your child hurt is its own tide. I’m sad for him. But he’s growing. Becoming. And that’s what I want for both my living children — lives big enough to hold joy and also understanding that sorrow is a part of it, sometimes at the same time.


Grief didn’t leave this week.


It pulled up a chair.


But it didn’t take the whole table.


Last week the waves knocked me back.

This week they were just ocean.


And I’m learning that maybe healing isn’t about the sea disappearing.


Maybe it’s about making room.



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