Me, alone. Life after loss.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. ~ William Shakespeare
I wanted to write about Order. Instead I see Obstacles:
Can't stop thinking about last April, wondering how much you knew, how much you suffered.
Know it's important for me to get the words out.
Wonder how long it will be before I feel normal.
Want the chaos of the past couple of years to turn into Order.
I cleaned out your stuff, early on. I gave to your brothers, tools, clothes, the Mustang, and the Van. I kept lots that I wanted to have. To have you close by, your jeans fit me, your shirts, your belts. I love your thick leather belts (think I must have bought them for you) and donated the rest.
Recently, I began to go through photos. So many, all those duplicates you meant to give to family, but never got around to. I will do it now. It hurts, but has to get done.
Worked on the house, new windows, new siding. Glenn has been an angel. Helped me so much.
Recently, I began to go through photos. So many, all those duplicates you meant to give to family, but never got around to. I will do it now. It hurts, but has to get done.
Worked on the house, new windows, new siding. Glenn has been an angel. Helped me so much.
Living trust, DMV, checking accounts, income taxes, and all the rest of the paperwork. Did that, all of it.
Much accomplished, much left to do.
Friends ask: "How are you doing?" "Fine," I say.
And it's true, I do feel OK. Now I do.
This is not easy.
This is not easy.
I'm tired......
