Monthly Archives: January 2021

Grief is a ninja

Today was tough.

I had serious issues on a financial website that absolutely didn’t want to work with my security software even though it was just freaking fine yesterday. Took me an hour to resolve the problem and download the docs I needed for my taxes — just to learn that I wouldn’t get the deduction.

Then I spent another 90 minutes, plus two phone calls, trying to get through a government site so I could get the appropriate ID number to submit paperwork to an insurance company for my wife’s corporation.

DayJob was… well, DayJob. Three reminders from the Powers That Be to submit our timesheets appropriately and please reply to this email by 3 PM saying you read and understood all the minutia contained therein.

So when the cold rains starting whipping the house I thought I would take a break and walk to the post office to drop off an important letter. Almost lost my umbrella. Dropped the letter (missed the puddle, though).

On the way home, umbrella folded, rain soaking my pandemic mask, I was struck by a craving for an overly sweet Hot Butter Rum. Like my Dad sometimes made for me when I was sick. It probably wasn’t very good (made from a grainy batter in a jar, I recall) but in that moment, all I wanted was a fire, and a hot drink.

And my father.

The grief darted out from its hiding place and punched me in the solar plexus, then disappeared into the gray. I had almost forgotten it was there.

So I’m calling it a night. Going to make chicken soup, read a good book, and stare into the fire. I don’t have any rum but I have my spouse and several warm kitties.

Be good to each other.