So Gramma died this morning. Even harder than rushing back to Chicago when Stephan's mom was sick- I wish I could teleport home right now (I also wish my laundry was done, the dishes unloaded from the dishwasher, and the clutter on the kitchen table put away). Stephan's at work, so I'm home alone. On the outside this looks just like any other day for me... get ready for work on Monday, clean the house, make dinner, etc. etc.
But inside I feel like I'm trying to rush through all 5 stages of grieving in 2 hours. Maybe the coffee isn't helping. Maybe I've studied too much psychology. Maybe I should brave the -40F windchill and go for a walk (maybe not). Maybe I need to cry more- or less. Maybe she's sitting on the couch next to me scratching my back, and I'm just too human to feel it.