The last few weeks have been hell.
Just to give you an idea of where my mindset has been, a few weeks ago a friend of mine passed away from cancer. She had beaten it a year ago, but it came back earlier this year. She was placed into hospice in May.
Two days later, I received a call from my sister-in-law telling me my brother had hours to days to live.
My brother is currently fighting AML with HLH. And let me tell you—he is fighting.
That phone call was two weeks ago.
It's hard to stay positive when all of that is happening at once.
Recently, I went back through old chats between Dareth and me. We had made plans to connect, but life got busy and we never did. When she went into hospice, I never messaged her. Not because I didn't care, but because I didn't know what to say.
I've never been good with words in situations like that.
I tend to sit quietly. I pray. I observe.
I regret not reaching out.
When I went to see my brother in the hospital, I found myself doing the same thing. I sat and watched. Sometimes I spoke, but mostly I watched. I listened. I prayed.
The reality is that when you're carrying this much grief, it becomes difficult to move forward with anything else. You get stuck in a cycle that doesn't seem to quit. One loss blends into another. One fear blends into the next.
Eventually, you get to the point where you feel like you can't come up for air.
That's where I am right now.
Mind you, life doesn't stop.
I still have a demanding day job.
I still have responsibilities.
I'm still trying to finish writing The Final Vow.
But grief doesn't care about deadlines.
It doesn't care about project plans, meetings, book launches, or word counts.
It simply shows up and takes a seat beside you.
The last few weeks have reminded me that life is fragile. Plans get postponed. Conversations don't always happen. Sometimes the people we care about are gone before we get another chance.
So if you've been wondering why I've been quieter than usual, this is why.
Right now, I'm taking things one day at a time.
Praying. Watching. Writing when I can.
And trying to remember to come up for air.