I’ve had very few visitors since Tin passed away. I don’t know if the reason is avoidance, being unsure of how I’ll be with guests or just that life goes on and we become too busy for the little things.  Approaching the first anniversary of Tin’s passing, as the warmer month’s and spring break approaches, I’m starting to get the calls to stop in for a weekend.

I just finished the first visit from a friend that came to see Tin and I every year. He skipped last year knowing how sick Tin was and that our time together was short. It wasn’t my friend’s arrival seeing me for the first time that triggered him fully into understanding my new truth. Not until the third day at brunch, unlocked and escorted by mimosas, did my truth finally become my friend’s truth. He began to talk about Tin out of nowhere. No easy merge onto the highway of conversation – an instant and unexpected left turn of thoughts and feelings poured out of his mouth. He was scared to see me but worried about me all the time. He was happy to visit but sad to be in the apartment decorated by Tin. He felt a new emptiness beyond what he was expecting and I couldn’t hold back the tears. I held back the sobbing but I couldn’t control the tears.

I knew that moment was coming and I had trained and trained for it. To hold myself together when others had to finally face my truth. Train all I may, I can’t train myself to be strong for others when their truth hits. Like an avalanche of feelings, their new truth breaks away the new walls I’ve built to define my new truth.

As I bare the burden, that boulder of grief, ever pushing uphill, I cannot see what’s coming my way. I get stronger with each push but there are times I must rest. There are times I stumble. There are times I slip. There are times that the landslide brings me down…