Recognition

Last week I helped a patron at the Library.  She was slow and lacked attention when I asked her questions.  I realized I didn't have to rush anywhere else, so I took my time to help her.  I slowed down the pace.  I didn't believe she had dementia or a disability.

I just couldn't put my finger on it. . .

Something definitely was wrong, but it wasn't until she made an off-hand comment on the way to the printer I realized I recognized the characteristics. . .

G - r - i - e - f
Her husband had passed away and she was trying to find something in life to give her meaning.  I recognized the "grief funk" which is thicker and sadder than "grief fog".

I felt so bad for her, she was almost a year.  I remember that dark, lonely, sad, isolated and painful place. 

I hoped my words and hug helped her along her journey. 

Later, I cried for her because I knew her journey and her pain.  And then I cried because I realized I had healed.  Yep, that place of "grief funk"  and even "grief fog" is a memory and no longer a residence!