If you ask me what I came into this world to do, I will tell you. I came to live out loud. Emile Zola
Finding the words to start the blog back up again has been difficult. As most of you already know, my mom was hit by a truck and killed while riding her bike in January. I've done a lot of writing since then, but when it came to the blog, it was hard to find a way to go from a blog post that said, "I came to live out loud," to one where I write about my mom dying.
I knew the words would come at some point and today they did. Most days I do pretty well, but today was a rough one. I spent the morning hitting up garage sales looking for furniture for my new place. From out of nowhere it hit me-
My mom will never get to see my new place.
A friend who lost her mom years ago told me that "firsts" will be the hardest. The first Mother's Day. The first Christmas. The first new anything.
My tactic on the rare rough day is this: find a way, any way, to embrace the sadness, then let it go and move forward. Today my way was this: I remembered what my dad said about the day she died. He said she was singing while she got ready to ride her bike because she was so happy to go enjoy the sunny day.
Simply put, she was living out loud.
So, I'd better get on with it then and get back to some noisy living too. Next week, I move into this place:
Ski and run trails out the back door. A short walk to the beach. A bike path out front. When I sent a friend the pictures, his response was, "Living the dream."
So here's to living the dream. Out loud.