A former colleague of mine lost his daughter today. It was her sixth birthday.
Doesn’t that suck? The loss isn’t any bigger, of course. The day after her birthday would have been just as bad, or the day before. Or a month later or nowhere near by. And yet, we notice special days. We celebrate them. We memorialize them. I suppose, long term, for the many years to come for my colleague and his wife, it’s not worse to have both those bad days–her death and her birth–happen on the same day. One miserable day a year instead of two, nothing wrong with that.
And yet, there are so many miserable days to get through before then.
I think I’m going to spend some time tonight practicing yoga breathing. Just breathe. One breath after another. In, out, and life continues.