Grief Has a Curveball

Just when you think you have grief somewhat figured out, it throws you a curveball. I don’t consider myself a delicate person who has to be sheltered from life.

Grief, however, lowers that tough girl bar level WAY down. Like you’re one of the two last people in the roller skating limbo game and the bar is as low as it’s going to go kind of level.

The hits just kept on coming today and my tolerance level AND my confidence level just plummeted into this heap on the floor. In a normal life, I could have just shaken it off, laughed it off, and kept on going. By the end of the day, when most everyone was gone and no one could see me, I sat at my desk holding my box of Kleenex as if it were the most precious thing in the world to me.

The next phone call had incredible timing. It was a normal call from one of our Little Rock customers needing a fuel cell, but that man had the most infectious laugh and laid-back attitude that without him knowing it, he made the little dark cloud hovering over my desk blow away and showed me a little sunshine. He has no idea what he did and I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to tell him, but on the weird, off-chance he ever sees this, thank you, thank you, thank you, for contributing just a little bit to this ol’ girl’s healing.