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There are good days. Days when I can almost forget. There are bad days, days when I get those twinges of sorrow, but they pass without incident. Then there are days like yesterday. Days when the grief is utterly consuming, overwhelming, and crippling. It hit me hard yesterday. And of all places, it was during Sacrament meeting, during the opening hymn. It was the last 3 verses of "If You Could Hie To Kolob", I mean really, who ever really sings the last 2 verses, anyway? Well, our little Ward likes to sing the entire song, of every song, and yesterday the words really hit hard.

The works of God continue, And worlds and lives abound;
Improvement and progression Have one eternal round.
There is no end to matter; There is no end to space;
There is no end to spirit; There is no end to race.

There is no end to virtue; There is no end to might;
There is no end to wisdom; There is no end to light.
There is no end to union; There is no end to youth;
There is no end to priesthood; There is no end to truth.

There is no end to glory; There is no end to love;
There is no end to being; There is no death above.
There is no end to glory; There is no end to love;
There is no end to being; There is no death above.

As I sat sobbing, unable to get a grip on my emotions, I started to think why this particular day was so much harder than all the other days. For one reason, it has been nearly 5 months now, and the grief still gets me. 5 months has flown by, and I worry that the next 5 years will fly by just as quickly, and that I may lose some of the essence of what made Mom Mom. What if I forget the way she talked? What if I forget her smell? What if I said the wrong things or did the wrong things, and she can't forgive me? The other reason I came up with, is the fact that I am basically unmedicated at this particular juncture in my life. This is something I haven't dealt with in over 8 years. Due to some reasons I'd rather not get into, I've decided it's time to change my prescription, and in order to do that, I had to leave on behind, and pick up another, leaving a gap in between. It's not a pretty sight. But let me tell you, it's not a pretty feeling, either.

As I sat sobbing, even through the youth speaker and the Bishop's testimony, it was as if these last 5 months were hitting me raw for the first time. I've been feeling all of this grief from behind a medication screen, and now, they are hitting full force. It's like the diagnosis, suffering and death all over again, only this time I don't have my siblings there to share the sorrow with. It makes me grateful for the blessing of being together during all of that the first time. But it makes me sad that Sugar Daddy can't feel what I feel, because he wasn't there. I know he hurts too, but it's not the same. I felt lonely. But I'm giving it another couple of days, the new medication will kick in, and all will be well again. Hopefully.