Today, she is not.
I have no words and so many words all at once, but none that will do her justice or truly convey the depth of pain I am in.
Part of my wolf pack passed away.
If you’ve been reading this journal for awhile, you already know how important she is to me. “My dietitian” doesn’t even touch the surface of our relationship. She knew my soul. She showed me the true meaning of grace and taught me how to have it for myself. She held space for me when I thought there was no space to be held, and never failed to meet me where I was at. She was the calm I needed when my eating disorder raged, or when I felt engulfed by trauma wounds–before, during, and after any storm.
I spent 1-1.5 hours with her once a week for most weeks in the last three years. She saw me through the worst depression I’ve ever experienced and guided me gently through the ups and downs of life. My body burns with grief and a continuous stream of tears keep pouring every time I think about how I will not be driving the 23 minutes to her house every Wednesday. How I will never be offered her blanket to take with me in the car, to use for the week in comfort on a rough day. How all I have left of her is the creosote bush bundle she gave me and the sticker that resides on my water bottle which says, “You are loved no matter how you feel.” I carried her everywhere with me by means of that water bottle, and received her support in real-time or in spirit a majority of my days in the last three years. I simply cannot imagine never receiving her mama-bear hug again.
I have hundreds of text messages and a handful of emails, but I will never hear her supportive, kind, and loving words again.
I am gutted.
I am completely devastated at the loss of a member of my wolf pack.
I want her to come back with every ounce of my being, and feel angry with God for allowing this to happen. Someone who has touched the heart of so many people, and someone who cared for her clients as if they were her own family, is gone from this earth and that is entirely unfair.
I’d give anything to be in her office, greeted with her caring smile, feeling safe as we shared breakfast together.
I miss her so much it hurts to breathe.