The art of weaving

My stepfather, Vern, passed away one week ago today. It is amazing how many different things weave their way around my life as I knit together my love for the dead and devotion to the living. One thing is constant and that is food. Grief does not seem to call for food. It should be the last thing on our minds and yet there it is in abudance, from everywhere. Traditional dishes, comfort foods, fast and easy, desserts, barbeque, restaurant fare, take out... Never ending streams of food. In all the confusion I eat though I am never hungry, having not allowed myself to become so. Perhaps the joy of knowing where Vern is now, out of pain and discomfort, makes the grief a light burden. And so now eating makes more sense. I have abandoned my loyalty to my health getting through this period. The funeral is tomorrow. I will play the organ. I will share a few memories. Then I will eat. I would feel better if I were on program during this time. I would have less distain for my indulgence and more time for those I love. And I would sleep better on an empty stomach. I would have a lot more energy. Why have I given up when I still have time left to pull my efforts together? As I type, I am thinking but not acting. So, this time instead of going and getting a cookie, I will go play the piano, then I will take a nap, then I will go get the kids from the swimming pool, then I will come back home, whip up dinner and be hungry enough to eat it! As stuffy as this sounds (and certainly not very humorous), I believe it is what I will do. Give up the pouting and excuses. Smile and enjoy life. I am full from lunch. I want to be hungry for dinner. This is my day. Tomorrow I will wake up and decide how to I will cope, but today is mine. And I will forgive myself for this morning!!!