This week, my cousin of the same age as myself passed away from a quading accident. Like most people, I've cried -alot-, talked about it, looked at photos from years past, and shared memories.
I've dealt with death before but never of someone this close in age.
So for my therapy, I've been baking. I mean, I'm always baking something, but it was different now. I didn't rush through it so I could fit something more into my day. I took my time and tried a new recipe. Same idea as an old one, but new approach. I took my time and tried to process things.
My family was all upstairs so I couldn't have music playing. It was hard to get into my little baking bubble that I'm usually in, but in a way it helped, because I needed to focus more and pay attention.
I don't know if this is making any sense to those who are reading, but yeah. When I finished the cake, I couldn't believe how much of my heart and soul went into making it. When I was tired of crying, my heart went to something else. Something that will bless my friends tonight as we gather for out writers party before spring break.
Cousins; Britni, Dante, myself.
I lift my eyes unto the hills, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of Heaven and earth.
- Psalm 121:1