Hi friends. Like many of you, I expected to wake up this morning to my normal Wednesday routine.

7:30 – Wake up.

7:45 – Brush my teeth and enjoy morning gratitude in my journal.

8:00 – Get dressed and tidy room.

8:15 – Sunscreen up and eat some fresh fruit for breakfast.

8:30 – Leave for yoga class.

I love Wednesday mornings. They are my slowest of the week. It’s the one day of the week that I don’t nanny and the one day where I don’t overwhelm myself with to-do list items.

10:30 – Drive to nail appointment.

11:45 – Grab a smoothie at a local coffee shop.

12:15 – Head home to welcome what the rest of the day may bring.

I turn on my favorite podcast, “We Can Do Hard Things,” grind out some homework, and attempt a new recipe for lunch.

4:00 – Gas up my car and pick up a friend for an adventure to my college campus.

4:45 – Receive my cap and gown for upcoming graduation ceremony.

5:00 – Debrief the weeks events and listen to Zach Bryan at full volume.

6:00 – Arrive home to fresh homemade tacos.

6:30 – Shower, wash my face, and relax.

8:00 – Writing to you.

Not once in my Wednesday itinerary did I plan to accommodate unexpected news. I lost a close family member last night during my sleep. I lost a man that was loyal, a man that was undeniably kind… a man that never failed to make me feel adored.

I woke up to a melancholy mom with tired eyes. I woke up to a quiet and still living room. Although, I also woke to a bright yellow sun that was still shining, even through blinds of a home that felt dark.

The timely day I just ran you through was my anticipated Wednesday. A day of guaranteed peace that I often have this time every week. “Why would I expect any different of this Wednesday?” I thought. Only today, my messages were flooded with the phrase, “I’m so sorry for your loss,” opposed to the normal “Hi you! Coffee date soon?!”

The puffy eyes, the fatigued body, the silence that accompanies grief. The warm blanket, the comfort meal, the furry animal that provides companionship… Those components, too, accompany grief.

Grief comes in waves, right? You could be heading down the basement stairs with a laundry basket in hand to fill the washing machine with your dirty clothing. Only to pause on stair #8 and be hit with reality. Losing a loved one; mourning the loss of someone or something. It hurts. So you choose to step down to stair #9 and watch a new episode of your favorite reality show because remaining on stair #8 was too painful. Grief sneaks its way back into your space, even when distracted.

I’m okay, truly. I’m learning how to be okay even when I feel completely worn down. I choose to find a way back up the staircase to hug the furry friend and to stand in the kitchen that is awaiting my attempt of cooking a new recipe. I’ve done my best today and that is satisfying enough.

Grief… You’re not taking me down with you!

I ask just one favor of you. Please tell someone whom you love that you love them. Do it now!

All my love, Grace.