Family, Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

Not Ready

Grief feels like a weighted blanket. It’s close to my body, but I put it away each morning and begin the day pretending it’s not there. Annoyance is also close by. The pitying question “how are you?” continues to grate. I don’t know how I am wish want to shout. How is it even after three years, I am no closer to feeling the hole inside recede. Grief is also tiring, mundane, boring even. Repetitive even. Well meaning people irritate with their questions, looking to see if you are whole when all you wish to do is scream, there is also now and before the death. They are just different.

So I continue each day, plodding along, hoping, praying, wishing even that my grief is no bigger or better than others, but the ache stays, the heaviness inside me remains. Only in this morning quiet do I allow myself the luxury of that blanket. But soon I must put it aside as the sun rises, ready to start another day, to answer that I am okay, because truth be told, there is no other way except to carry this for the rest of my life.

And so I begin the day with longing, remembering the laughing times, the old conversations, the many lectures, but most of all, I remember him waving goodbye in so many pictures. He was always ready.  I just wasn’t.

Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal


One of the many things that I have discovered in my long runs is the sheer amount of thoughts that go through me. Along with the idea of quitting at every single step, as I venture out to longer distances like ten miles plus, I get into an automatic mode in which my legs keep moving, yet my body’s desire to stop grows but is unable to keep me from my momentum. I also can no longer run away from my feelings. So many emotions come up while I am alone on the pavement in the early morning light. Round and round I go, and my thoughts follow me. I feel the hard pavement on my feet, and also a slight twinge of pain in left knees, but I keep moving and so does my brain.

More and more, I see that I get to wake up earlier to get the long run in otherwise once that window of time goes, I am unable to get a run with the sun blazing. So, in the morning darkness, I believe my 2 hour plus running journey. At first, I couldn’t fathom doing that distance especially without music, but lately, as I mark miles I see a willingness to be with my head. To be inside myself and explore what is really going on.

What I find isn’t pretty: deep depths of grief, sadness, anger, unresolved conflicts, and a growing anxiety that I am not making enough, not doing enough, that I am wasting my time in many areas of my life, that I am slow, I am old, I am weak, I am in hiding. I keep the thoughts going, feel the emotion, and then I keep moving. Not away from them, but really allowing myself to feel it all.  Too often, in the past, I have denied and avoided my feelings, but now I honor myself by letting it come out, knowing that most of these things are expressions but they are not the reality.

That just because I am hurt or doubt myself doesn’t mean I give up on the relationship of the task. It just means it an opportunity to learn, to grow. I didn’t say it doesn’t suck, but my pain heals me, allows me to hurt so I can grow, and perhaps, maybe one day, the loneliness will fade.

Family, Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal, My Past, Myself

Time Passes But Hurt Doesn’t

Another anniversary, another reminder of time passing, yet feels like no time at all.  Keep busy. Look down. Keep going. One task to another. Be in service to others. Remember him as the man he truly was not what I wished him to be. See him as a truly loving man who didn’t shy away from saying I love you. Heart full, head heavy. Yet images of him smiling always come to mind. Hard to imagine her pain, waking up to a day like this. Words and emotions flying inside me, but I dare not release them onto others. This is my suffering, to do alone, to serve as penance for not utilizing my time with him well.

But then I remember how much good and fun we did manage to have. Through the arguments, his unwavering support even when he doubted my crazy ideas about Desi music and Ziba, cemented our friendship. Yes, I could say I was friends with Papa.  Yet, the hurt stays, the pain never really gone, just a dull thud, but also the realization that I am the man I am thanks to him. His actions became my opportunities to learn. His mistakes, my pain to overcome and become better.

It’s tempting to build him up, erase the tension and the disagreements, the regret of not following his instructions. The day comes but he’s lasted for years and will for as long as I am here, and hopefully after. I Love you, Papa

Family, Food For Thought, Inpsiration, Journal

If Only

It can be easy to delude myself that I am in great shape when I average 10 miles of running a week, and manage to hit crossfit two to three times a week. It can feel that I am at my healthiest, that I deserve to all that I want, and yet this week came the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, I am triggering in others and in myself a desire to over-indulge. I put in hard work, but this week it feels that loved ones around me feel I am wasting that effort if I gorge myself. Of course, the analyzer in me took up the challenge to figure out am I overdoing it?  If only, I ran more, worked out more, read more, practiced more, and it hit me that when I play “if only” game I am not as happy with my life as I should be.

When I allow “if only” to run my day, my thoughts and feelings, I never feel good enough, untalented, prone to mistakes. I ignore my best efforts. I don’t allow myself to feel pride in my accomplishments, and the fact that I am living pretty close to my vision.  When I only “If only” to rule my days, I lose sight of possibility in myself. Sure, I admit there are some positives because “if only” has led me to set up morning routines and exercise regimens, and be open to opening a new practice, however it can turn toxic when I allow others “if only” to permeate my thinking. When I take on their proposed ideas of how I should be living my life, I realize that I take on their idea of a what a good life is. It may be for them, but I workout to feel good and enjoy my life. I do the things in my life because I want to be a better version of myself, but not the best

That was never the goal. It is to live a life that I can call my own and not based just on “if only.”

Happy Monday and Labor Day!