Following her husband’s death, Lore Powell, PRiME contributor, kept a journal she refers to as “The Grief Project.” Over the past few months, she has graciously allowed us to share her entries with our readers as she moves through the process of surviving grief and acceptance of a new life path. You can begin with her first essay here.
So what does a woman do when all others don’t quite add up? Well OBVIOUSLY you accept a dare and sign up for a month-long trial on e-Harmony; that’s what you do. Within my first week on e-Harmony I was accidentally matched with a woman named Ruth. She would have been great, but she had horrible taste in clothes and I suspect she was gay.
Once I got that little snafu figured out, the rest was high school all over again. He sends a “smile” icon at you, you respond with a “smile” icon. The he asks you a series of predetermined questions – you answer carefully as to not come off as crazy or needy – and then he never responds again. I, unfortunately, always come off as crazy and needy. But, you begin to notice that the need to share a moment, a laugh, a meal or your deepest thoughts is a pretty common need. Then you don’t feel so bad about having in depth conversations with your dog.
I’m not one of the “cool” girls on e-Harmony, but I did not expect otherwise. Just the other day I wore a pair of shoes to Target not realizing that my dog, Cece, had chewed on them and removed the rubber sole from the heel. I quickly realized that the rubber is crucial to keeping you from sliding across the room. Three times I fell flat on my back in the middle of Target.
By the third time, people stopped helping me and assumed I was drunk. I must admit, by the third time, I just lay there for a few minutes and re-evaluated my life choices. You see, I was in Target to find a replacement dog bone canister for the doggy day care. During a visit, Cece broke free and knocked a ceramic container off of the reception desk. It broke into a million pieces and caused all the dogs to start a riot. It was pure chaos. I think they wanted to call the police.
It’s been one hell of a year. A grief so deep it feels like an illness. A pride for my children so great that I boast of their awesomeness. Surviving grief through a self-realization of my strengths and weaknesses with a comfortable acceptance of both and a great appreciation of the life we are all provided and the plan we are destined to follow.
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