when in deep contemplation, say very little...

It has been a while since I posted. But it is not due to a lack of reflection or having little to say (neither have ever been on my short list of problems).

My dad died six weeks ago, and I am going through a fairly intense period of seeking and thinking and wrestling and arguing... about various issues and convoluted subjects. But at the core is this sense that the bottom has somehow dropped out, and inside I'm spinning.

Not like I am falling apart, or that life has taken a drastic turn for me or us, but more like that carnival ride that relies on centrifugal force, where once you're spinning at a certain speed they literally drop the floor out from under you. This is advertised to be fun. (Well, the last time I risked it I vomited with my 9th grade "date" standing next to me... ruined the next several weeks)

I feel just like that now. Life is spinning, and actually at a pretty good clip. I have worked hard, made some good decisions, ducked a few others. But I've also spoken when I shouldn't have, hit Send on a few emails that I needed to be softened a bit, and more times than I'd like to admit outwardly displayed an engagement when frankly I was somewhere far, far away (remember the floor ride?). In other words, I have not been very good at this grieving thing.

Grief comes in waves, you know. It is also unpredictable, sometimes frightening, and occasionally devastating. You see, I lost my father, and now some of those issues and memories and incongruities that I have neatly hidden away are wreaking havoc on my soul, my heart, my mind.

My friends, grieving or not, the following non-sage bit of advice comes solely from my own experience, current as it is:

When in deep contemplation, or distracted by the inner whispers of the soul, or held prisoner by the fickle ravages of pain and loss, say very little.

Unless you blog...