I did a really great thing for myself yesterday. I got back into the swing of things with Pilates. Not practicing Pilates on my own. I haven’t missed a beat with that. No, I am talking about student teaching to get all of my hours for my certification. I had been on a break of sorts. I was just dealing with so much in my personal life that something had to give. With the home buying nonsense, my grandpa passing away, having a toddler, my IBS flaring up from all the stress, and injuring my neck, I was constantly spent.

The last thing I wanted to do was stand up in front of a room of people, not feeling confident at all, and try to safely guide them through physically demanding moves. No. I was not up for that. I spent all day giving my best to my son. I couldn’t put him on the back burner. No matter how depressed I was over my grandpa, I couldn’t mope around all day not caring for my child. So, by the time my husband got home at night I was just exhausted. There was nothing left to give.

I started to feel better last week, slowly but surely. Then, the weather started to warm up. We went to the park about 3 times in a week’s time! Ah, glorious sunshine and fresh air will do anyone some good. I went back in yesterday to student teach a private session with my amazing teacher. It felt ah-maze-ing to get in there and do this. I felt so great afterward. I am ready to get back into this. I am ready to finish what I started. I am ready for life to continue on.

I needed my mourning period. I am by no means over it. I never will be. Grandpa randomly crosses my mind regularly. I will be doing the most simple thing and suddenly some memory will flood back. I also got very attached to being around Jack. I have barely let him out of my sight since this time last month, actually. Other than one sleepover at my mom’s home. I think she needed that as much as I needed to take a break from student teaching. Clinging to this life that I created just felt right and safe. Looking at his cute little toddler feet, watching the way he plays with his toys, listening to his HUGE vocabulary, and just taking in his face, were the places I wanted and needed to be. The thought of being away from him several nights a week was just not something I wanted to actually go through with. Even if some days I felt like he was driving me crazy. I just didn’t want to miss a thing.

Death is a funny thing. Dealing with it and trying to put your own life back together can be tricky. I have been to a good share of wakes and funerals. This was by no means my first. But they were always more distant relatives. Not what I consider an immediate relative. It was different this time. It has been hard. Bottom line. How long should one mourn? There is no definitive answer to that. I cringe at the thought that if I ever have another child my grandpa will not have met that baby or even know about his/her existence. I hate that. A baby is not a big priority on my list, but I have thought about that scenario. Does that mean if I actually decide to have a 2nd that I shouldn’t? No. Because life does go on. The living have to keep living. Keep loving the loved ones we have with us while remembering the ones we have lost. I just squeeze my little man a little tighter and rub his hair a little more and kiss his toes just one more time.

It was time to get back to my life that I worked really hard to achieve. I put so much time and effort into training to teach and to be derailed much longer would just be a waste. My grandpa would not have wanted me to waste my talents. That much I know.