"It was once a custom in Lakota Sioux Indian villages, at a time when many children did not survive infancy, to have a mourning tee-pee at the outskirts of the tribal village. All women who lost children were sent to live in that tee-pee for a month of solitude and grief. At the end of the month, the tee-pee was set on fire. The woman inside had to decide whether to live or die. If she came out of the burning tee-pee, this indicated that she was prepared to live, and she then rebuilt the tee-pee for the next mourner. As harsh as such a practice may sound to us, it's a pretty good graphic word-picture of the very necessary decisions we are confronted with as we try to move out of the despair of deep grief."
To actually have to decide whether to live or die, that would be hard. Everyday, I decide to get out of bed, take the boys to school, and go on with my day. Whether that be working, a day off full of appointments, or a day off to just relax, I always choose to get out of bed. It isn't always easy, but it also isn't deciding whether or not to come out of a burning tee-pee. In those terms, I guess I do choose to come out of the tee-pee. If only it were as easy as having to decide only once. In reality, those who deal with grief have to decide that every day. Because just deciding to come out, that doesn't mean really living, where as chosing not to come out doesn't mean actually dying. I guess where I am at, I just chose to live. I have my bad days, and I have my not so bad days. But my journey through grief is my own, and I am the only one who knows how to get through it. I live, and I can live how I want. No questions asked. And in the words of Forrest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that."
Tomorrow is is a big day of 5s. March 5th, Allie's 5 month Angelday, and 5 days until my 25th birthday. A lot to be happy about, and a lot to be sad about. Such is my life.
Peace. And choosing to live, whatever that means.
