to be sad.  It’s sort of like when is it convenient to be sick?  or which sense would you give up if you had to choose between seeing or hearing?  or less dramatically, which would you rather have, great food service or out-of-this-world food? 

I guess the answer to when is it okay to be sad, is today.  for me that is.  The reasons or the justification don’t really matter.  After all, I am not a witness in a court of law.  I am just a woman with a weeping heart.  I should know by now (after all, I am at the wise age of 51), to just give myself over to this heavy wave of grief that rolls in about this time of year, each year.  Sometimes the waves arrive in eddies, sometimes they pummel me immediately with their fierce-ness, and sometimes they form pools of quick sand, that wait patiently for my feet to find their way to their domain. 

This month of August has historically marked deaths and transitions, some chosen   and other passages thrust upon me.  I believe this is the month or time of year that I was separated from my first mother.  I sense that this separation was not of my choosing.  My adoptive father died this month as did my beloved dog companion.  Although their deaths or passings, as some refer to death, occurred many years ago, the grief process is not confined to the six month period that Western societies grudgingly assign the survivors, the ones left behind, to mourn their loss. 

I will write in more depth about these passings and their meanings, later.  For now, I am sad.  I read sad books so I can legitimately sit and cry without explanation.  I seek solitude so I do not have to put on a happy face when my heart is breaking.  I journey on the currents of my grief and sorrow.  Based on the past, I understand that the grief will ease up, the waves will become ripples, and I will drift onto a safe and sturdier footing ~ in time.