Grief is a beast, I was going to call it that but will return to what it is, an emotion. Grief is an emotion that appears to always have a surprise up its sleeve. Right now I feel as though I have been hit by that wave that catches you at the beach when you are looking in the wrong direction, hitting you from behind, toppling you over, tumbling you around, sending salt water up your nose and down your mouth, before depositing you in the shallows.
Haleakala on Maui with Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa on the Big Island of Hawai’i visible while flying out of Honolulu. You might have to zoom in for a better look.
Flying across country last night, sitting at 35,000ft with no nearby points of reference, it was not possible to register how fast the aircraft was moving. In the distance I caught a glimpse of a couple of airplanes flying in the opposite direction, recognizable by their blinking lights. Watching those blinking lights fly by, literally and figuratively, in the darkness of the night, was a reminder of our speed.
