In the past, I've compared the grieving process to the waves in the ocean. I really can't think of a better comparison.

There are days that I know are going to be rough. It's kinda like when you are out in the water, and you see a big wave coming, you prepare yourself. When I was younger, I would always close my eyes and jump just before the wave hit.

Then there are the days when you're facing land. You're having a great time in the water. Then, BAM!! A huge wave knocks you to your knees. This time you weren't prepared. You had no idea it was coming. You didn't know to close your eyes. You didn't know to jump. Yesterday was one of those days for me.

My good friends would tell you that I'm practical to a fault. Sometimes I think I try to be practical with my grief. It's almost like I try to capture it in a box and place it on the top shelf in my closet. It works for a while. The only trouble is that a new box appears on my doorstep.

The good thing about all of this is that the boxes are smaller and they come less frequently. I do see light at the end of the tunnel. There are days when I'm not sad at all. There are days when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I actually see the "old Stephanie." (By your comments on the pictures I posted, I think some of you saw that as well. I can't tell you how many days I've looked at myself in the mirror and wondered "What did I forget?" It wasn't that I forget to put on eyeliner or blush or mascara. There was a sadness in my eyes that couldn't be masked by make up.)