When I was a kid, we’d make cookies and deliver them to people in town.  Older women who were alone.  Friends we didn’t see all the time.  We’d wrap the cookies with a festive bow, and wear our coats with our Christmas corsages.

Mom would pack us in the car, and we’d set off.

We’d have several stops planned.  Get out at the first one.  Knock on the door.  The door would open to a surprised person, who then smiled when they saw what we brought.  Not just cookies, but love.

They’d often invite us in.  Ask us to take off our coats.  And Mom would say, “We can only stay for a few minutes.  We’re just stopping by.”  So we’d sit on the couch with our coats still on.  Enjoying the company, even though the visit was short.

Today is the anniversary of my husband Jerry’s death.  Yesterday I woke feeling not quite myself.  It always takes me by surprise, this feeling I get right around his death anniversary.  Grief for what I’ve lost and because I still miss him.  Mixed with joy for the life I have now.  Yeah.  Not quite myself.  Just a little off.

I started to feel guilty about how I feel.  And then I said out loud to myself.  “It’s okay.  I’m not living here.  I’m just stopping by.”

I think it’s okay to “stop by” grief.  Sorrow.  Longing.  Almost any emotion.  They are what they are.  They’re what makes us human.  The world’s not stopping because of how I feel.  I’m not spiraling down into a vortex from which I can’t escape.  I’m just stopping by.  You can too.

It’s okay to feel what you feel.  You can sit on the couch and have a conversation.  It doesn’t mean you’re moving in.  You’re just stopping by.  And just like the Christmas cookie visits, I think you’re the richer for having done so.  Even if you feel uncomfortable.

So give yourself permission to stop by.  Sit for a spell.  Just keep your coat on.

Where would you like to stop by today?  Leave a comment.