Fair

 It being Mental Health Awareness Month (depending on whom you ask, it being either May or October), there was a Mental Health Awareness and Resource Fair scheduled to be held at a nearby park this afternoon. Since Beloved Husband planned some time away for one of his hobbies this weekend, I thought I'd take advantage of my alone time to check out this Fair. I'm a fan of supporting open and honest conversation about mental health, especially in a community such as ours where culturally, mental health issues are not easily discussed.  

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On my way there, I wondered if perhaps there might be some resources for grief support. I am still struggling, nearly nine months later, with my lovely Daddy's death -- especially this month, when I am slogging through a seemingly endless stream of complex paperwork to meet an estate tax deadline -- and I feel as though I could use some more support. 

It's been a long and lonely road without Daddy, and my resources are few. My brother and sister, though ever so kind and warm and lovely like our Daddy, are far away and tending to their own grief. Beloved Husband, who has thoughtful words when he can stop and listen, is so very busy that he has a hand on the doorknob and a foot either literally or metaphorically out the door much of the time; I am hesitant to interrupt the flow of his complex life to try to turn his attention, because I know he does not have the minutes to spare for me. And I worry a great deal about overburdening Cherished Friend, who kindly reads my texts of Feelings when I can no longer suppress what I am experiencing. I do not want to weigh him down with my difficulties. I fear it will be Too Much, and he will grow weary of me and walk away. As is his right. 

What kind of person am I, if the only thing I have to offer is my sorrow and rage and pining loneliness right now? I have nothing to serve guests at my table except a scalding and bitter tea. I am trying to listen, and support, and Do For Others, as I have always done before (and, in better times, as I have liked to do). Nothing grows in my garden, though, when it is watered only by tears. 

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When I arrived to the location of the Fair, there were only two cars in the large parking lot, and not a person in sight. The table in the gateway of the park, where normally the welcome people sit at events, had a handful of painted rocks and a few fliers in plastic upon it. The calendar of events nearby mentioned the Fair and other events, but there was not a soul to be seen.  Only a tumbleweed would have made the scene more picturesque in its emptiness.

It seemed.... apropos, somehow. 

I took a walk through the park. It was quiet, breezy, not too warm. Nice. I admired the sculptures, which I'm not sure I've ever seen in broad daylight before. And I looked for wildlife. I saw a few ducks, several lizards, and a very nice spiderweb.

It wasn't quite a grief support group. But it was, in its own way, a good respite from the Grief.