There's a long not perfect story behind this cross, and I'm going to share it if only to cinch the healing that it has brought. Y'all know I lost my Nana last year, and y'all know that wreaked a whole lotta havoc in my life for a couple of months. Fast forward and a long time friend inquired about a custom cross for her parents for Christmas. I agreed, thinking it was exactly the thing I needed to focus on to get right in the world again. And then December 9th my daddy died.
You know that girl who holds her head up and goes about life through trauma appearing to be untouched and capable and FINE? I'm that girl. Everyone kept expressing concern and I kept assuring everyone that I was completely fine. Because y'all please just let me be fine.
December 23rd I had to help my sweet Chelseagirl cross the rainbow bridge. And I was no longer fine nor capable of pretending to be fine so if everyone could just please leave me alone that would be great thanks.
Do I need to say here that the cross wasn't finished by Christmas? Probably not.
In January my oldest friend of 44 years died, and my giveadamn completely busted.
In February Poppop died and the utter numbness that followed...well, no words.
I threw myself into making beads, and by threw myself I mean I sat in front of my torch for 12-16 hours a day every day 7 days a week. It let me keep breathing with at least a tentative grasp on the world.
I pulled this cross out periodically to try. To try coming back. To try feeling something. There were days I did nothing but stare at it for hours before tucking it away again.
I took it to the beach, just me and it in a room for 5 days, and found myself slowly moving forward. On it. On acceptance. On me.
After 9 months it is finished. And I don't feel so broken anymore. In fact, I might even say I'm fine.