Masked

Carnival time - only three years ago. Always ready for a drama, the children are masked and ready to go. Now, we put on our masks every day, but it gives us no pleasure. The children must wear their happy masks for schools, and I must wear my competent mask to the office. It's not that people expect us to be over grieving, but they do expect us to be alright - to be functioning, capable and engaged. Yet, a grieving person has no control over their mental fogginess; their loss of concentration; the way the hours slip by and nothing seems to have been done. I am convinced something happens to the chemistry of the brain. There is improvement (and I hold out for the full return of my mental functioning), but it is not improvement on demand. All you can do is till the ground for the improvement to grow - for us, this has meant a slower, steadier life with a few friends; a regular routine of being at home and going out to school/office; and letting each person do their own thing with no demands that they should be behaving like this or like that.