Health by Heidi

  Well, it happened.  This morning, Grief ushered Rage back into the party.  Not so much ushered.  Rage crashed down upon my head like a piano falling from a third-story window.  People told me Rage would come, that one day I would be angry at Scott.  I didn't believe them.  Turns out they were right. I woke up at 2:00 this morning from bad dreams, and immediately felt crushed by Rage.  I tossed and turned until the alarm went off a few short hours later.  Rage never loosened his grip.  I got up, walked into the bathroom, and started cleaning up the cat pee on the tile.  Lily, the 18-year-old cat who Scott rescued as a tiny kitten, refuses to use the litter box now, despite three vet visits and three rounds of medicine to treat her persistent UTI.  So every morning, and often in the afternoon when I get home from work, I have to clean up cat pee on the bathroom floor.   I didn't ask for this .   With no warn...

  I cried yesterday.  It had been a while.  Sadness is still ever-present, but I had not cried in weeks.  And then, I sold the X1.  It was the pop-up tent camper on top of Scott's truck.  A guy came down from Great Falls and bought it.  I was happy to sell it.  It's such a specific item designed for a specific truck.  I have no attachment to the X1.  Scott only bought it last year.  He used it several times when he was bird hunting, but I only slept in it once, and that was this past June.  I held no sentimental value toward it.  And yet.  When I saw it being lifted off his truck and placed onto a different truck, it got me.  I stood there in the middle of a hayfield, watching the two men work the tractors to move the X1 from one truck to the other, and I cried.  I hoped they would not notice.  Perhaps they would think it was the fierce wind rocketing out of the western canyons that drew tears to my eye...

  It's been three months.   "Wow, I can't believe it's been three months.  It seems like it just happened."     Does it?  Does it seem like it just happened?  From my perspective, it feels like it's been three years, or three decades, or three lifetimes.  How has it ONLY been three months? I started purging.  I felt ready.  The shoes went first.  Then the clothes.  Tools.  Trailers.  More clothes.  Ski stuff.  Snowboard stuff.   "That seems fast.  Are you sure you're ready?" Yes, I am ready.  It seems fast compared to what?  Is there a written timeline or checklist that I'm not aware of?  His shoes sat by the garage door for weeks.  Initially, I couldn't imagine them not being there.  Finally, I got tired of tripping over them.  I was ready.   "Don't make any big decisions in the first year." I can't remember how many times I've heard this....

  Grief is the puppet master orchestrating the entrances and exits of the party guests.   "Infinite Sadness and Despair, enter stage left.  Anger and Rage, storm up the front.  Anxiety, slither in from the right.  Let's get her surrounded."   Grief ripped my heart out of my chest and repeatedly dragged it back and forth through a broken plate-glass window, tearing my heart to shreds and leaving it in a bloody mess on the floor.  And then, quietly, Grief nodded.  Gratitude appeared, picked up the pieces of my heart, and mended them.  Joy and Peace filed the sharp glass, softening the edges so the hole wasn't so sharp.   There are pivotal moments in life, moments that monumentally alter the trajectory.  When I met Scott, my world shifted.  I knew my life was forever changed in that moment.  I learned and grew and loved and was loved in ways I never thought possible.  When Scott died, my world shattered in...

  "River time," Lisa said with a smile. "River time!" I repeated as I settled onto the sand for our morning meditation.   "River time.  How do we carry river time with us into our daily routines when we get back home? That's the morning meditation today," Lisa explained as she took a seat on the sand. Shannon and Brett followed suit, and the meditation began. River time is magic time.  There is no agenda, no hurry, no stress.  We only have to get from point A to point B in the course of each day.  We are immersed in nature for days, eating, drinking, sleeping outside.  Of course, I found Levity on this trip.  Of course, Joy and Acceptance and Gratitude and Peace arrived.  They had space to arrive.  Simplicity allows for Clarity, and the river is nothing but simple. Could I hold on to my new party guests when I returned to the real world? Heidi, this is reality,  I reminded myself.  Yes, but it's a much simpler form of real...

  Today was our last full day on the river.  The previous night, I asked if anyone had any thoughts for our meditation today.  No one offered anything, and as we sat quietly contemplating, Peace floated up next to me and smiled.   Peace?  I thought.  Really?  Peace?  Can it be possible that Peace is here?  I inhaled slowly, closed my eyes, exhaled slowly.  Yes.  I realized for the first time in two months that I felt Peace.   "I have our meditation for tomorrow," I said, opening my eyes.  I smiled.  "But I will tell you in the morning." The last full day on the river promised to be a stunning one.  Once again, there was not a cloud in the sky.  We had a slight down-canyon wind, which is unheard of on the Main.  The air was cool and crisp but promised to warm quickly once the sun touched the canyon floor. After we loaded the boats, we all settled on the sand. "So," asked Lisa.  "What's our...