Learning to do Grief

Grief felt pretty much like self-pity at first. I know with all my being that Ken is not dead. He is young, strong, healthy and happy to be out of his sick body. I miss his old form terribly though. After not knowing what to do with myself I was directed to a grief group led by a dynamic facilitator at Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach. She suggests an hour a day of grief work, with props like photos and songs, to empty out emotions so they don't build up to tsunami levels. This works, it feels healthy and natural. I still fall apart in the car sometimes (are other people in their cars doing this? Pull over!). I keep kleenex on the front seat and lean into it. I feel Ken's comforting touch and embrace, I see his smile and am aware of his mannerisms as if he is close to me. Over-analyzing this as either my imagination or my holding him back from his own journey, I was comforted by my daughter's dream. In it, he told her not to grieve that he is missing events in our lives, because time is not the same where he is, and our separation is just the blink of an eye, it's nothing.