Counting losses

Summer lingers on, an Indian summer they used to call it, with a hot and humid, sometimes stormy September. The sump pump still runs regularly and the backyard is squishy. But my two little backyard maples burn full orange and betray the season. A part of me wishes the weather told the truth and would bring our summer family back together. When there were five and not two.

I scroll Facebook and browse photos of fall vacations, and family events and happy families. I know it's just a highlight reel and I don't envy anyone else's hidden story.

I know everyone has a story.

But I make a list
and my feed reminds me photo after photo what I have lost.

Hot tub dates
Riding in the car instead of driving
Night walks
Looking forward to him coming home every night
Morning coffee together
Hosting together
Dinners out
Companionship and presence

My Divorce Care class was on anger this week. I don't tend to get angry. My experience with anger is that it is not profitable and often just a cover for pain we are afraid to feel. I'd rather just cry.

I read my list and let the tears come. I count and grieve my losses to heal. One cannot heal without naming each one.

The math says five minus three is two, but God has different rules and multiplies loaves and fish and families. I welcome others in who are counting losses and my family of friends multiplies. My home and heart are full. I make a list.

Wine and hot tub with my girlfriends
Apple picking with Madison and friends
Riding again, now with Madison driving
Basement workouts to Psych
Hosting teens
Planned healthy menus and dinners in
Friends and friendship


This first month seems to have gone neither fast nor slow, but a steady pace toward a new normal. We settle in to new routines as the weather cools, the sump pump stills and time meanders on toward healing.