Grief is out and out a sneaky emotion.

You can be going along in your life completely oblivious to what may be lurking in the shadows – what may pop out in the neat blooms of your orderly life.

You may think you’re having a good day, a fine week and thank you very much, a dandy year.

Then grief creeps up behind you and completely unbidden, pokes you hard in the ribs. And announces, in a voice that can only be Jack Nicholson from the movie The Shining, “Here’s Grief.”

You’re not pleased.

“Hey, stop that,” you say in your most serious voice. “Stop poking me in the ribs. You’re making my chest hurt. Go away!”

Grief gives you a devilish grin and continues to poke with fingers that are long and pointy.

You walk away; find a new location.

Grief follows.

You pick up your pace, hoping to outrun this annoying Grief.

It doesn’t work.

Grief matches you step for step.

You try not to think about it; you busy yourself with work.

Grief continues to poke at you.

Finally, exhausted, you turn and face Grief full on.

“What do you want of me?”

Grief retracts the pointing finger.

“I want you to stop running. I want you to acknowledge how you feel.”

Grief, it seems, has turned into Doctor Phil!

“Then you have to stop making my chest hurt.”

Grief nods.

“No more poking?”

Another nod.

“And you’ll go away if I do this?”

“I’m already out the door.”

A Personal Note from Jean: Thank you for understanding my grief when I learned that Baby was gone. Talk about sneaky. I was blindsided by the depth of loss I felt.

I’m choosing to believe that Baby will draw the perfect people to her. She’s on a grand adventure.

And by the way, her real name is Skye.

I think you should know that.

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