Some days you sit and stare at the keyboard, then at the monitor, and hope for anything. You look outside and wonder where the birds are. Oh, there's one, on top of the pine tree. It's probably the same bird you always see on the top of that same pine tree.
“This is shit,” you think to yourself while struggling for more eloquent words or a better situation. Frustration sets in, but you keep typing because that's your job. You check and notice that you've only typed 80 words, which means you need 221 more to meet your quota, and then are happy because this sentence just used 34 words on its own.
You could, if so inclined, fill the remainder of your quota with sentences describing how much farther you have to go before reaching said quota. It would doubtless make for gripping drama.
You were thinking about grief when you started typing and then decided against focusing on something so heavy, although today is Memorial Day, so it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate. On the other hand, “memorial” relates to memory, so maybe you remember those you've lost and are filled with joy at knowing that you got to spend some amount of time with them in this world.
It's good to be connected. Good, but sometimes difficult.
You conjure the images of loved ones in your mind. And you contemplate the different kinds of loss. Some died, others just went away. Some you knew, others you really didn't.
As you grow older, you come to gain a greater understanding of bittersweet. And yet, you still have trouble finding the right words to describe it. There's a feeling whose essence you want to capture but which remains ever elusive.
Best get comfortable with that. It never goes away.
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