Life chugs along in its day-to-dayness.

Strings of days with no surprises, just mundane go to work, come home. Then one day, when you are feeling 10 feet tall and bullet proof, you get the phone call. Someone you love has cancer. Or has a fatal heart attack, or has a blood clot racing toward his or her brain. Or slammed full force with her car into another. And all of a sudden, in that instant, nothing is the same anymore.

I speak of these things because they have all happened to me in the last few years, and I realize what these devastating events have done, the toll they have taken on my life, my perspective of the joy of a mundane day.

When the big, fat eraser comes down and takes someone away from you, there are the much recognized stages of grief as outlined by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.

Denial is first. "No, you're wrong, the pathologist made a mistake" or "No, she wasn't killed in the car accident, she is probably at the hospital waiting for me."

Then comes anger. "How could this have happened to such a nice person? This is just so WRONG."

Next is bargaining, usually with God. "Please God, let this be a mistake. If you do, I will go to church every Sunday for the rest of my life, just don't let this be true."

Then depression sets in. This is when it gets hard. The grief is huge. You can't imagine going on without your loved one. It is inconceivable. And grief wears many faces. One day it is in tsunami proportions where you can barely breathe, you are so racked with sadness.

My heart hurt, it felt like it had a fence around it, and I was hoarse from crying. Mostly, I tried to stay busy. In a pinch, shopping helped. The next day there is numbness, silence, and I don't know which one was worse.

And then slowly, out of the ruins, comes acceptance. It happens slowly, but you begin to notice one day that you are finding joy again. You start feeling lighter inside. Food starts to look better. You hear yourself really laugh.

You are farther away from a broken heart. You don't have to jolly yourself out of depression, You can begin to come to terms with the new normal that is now your life.

The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer. Christine Priesol is a licensed clinical social worker. She works for Lansing School district 158 and maintains a private practice in Munster. She can be reached at cpriesol@aol.com. Due to volume, she is unable to answer each letter individually.