Ohhhhh... I thought I was done. I thought I was done. I thought I was done. I knew I wasn't done. I hoped I was done. With this January grief crap. Come on.
It's January 7th, so I guess I got a week off this year. I thought I was sailing through this time. All that writing I did last year, all the reading you did. I guess it cut a week off. I guess that's not too bad. And maybe it will just be one rough night.
January 7th. Is this the night I stayed awake in Texas, listening to my mom breathe, hoping she would not die before we got home to New York the next day? I think so. Now I can't remember. Maybe writing it all down last year gave me a place to leave those memories and now I am disoriented. Where did I leave my glasses? I can't see...
I feel like a ride just started up that I didn't know I was on. I am afraid. My cells are starting to panic. Is that even possible? I am tired. I don't want to go bed. I don't want to lay next to my husband and hear him breathe. I want to go out. I want to bake something. I want to climb under the couch and hide. I want to dig a hole in the dirt and bury my head in it.
This is not comfortable. This will pass. I will wait. February will come.
It's January 7th, so I guess I got a week off this year. I thought I was sailing through this time. All that writing I did last year, all the reading you did. I guess it cut a week off. I guess that's not too bad. And maybe it will just be one rough night.
January 7th. Is this the night I stayed awake in Texas, listening to my mom breathe, hoping she would not die before we got home to New York the next day? I think so. Now I can't remember. Maybe writing it all down last year gave me a place to leave those memories and now I am disoriented. Where did I leave my glasses? I can't see...
I feel like a ride just started up that I didn't know I was on. I am afraid. My cells are starting to panic. Is that even possible? I am tired. I don't want to go bed. I don't want to lay next to my husband and hear him breathe. I want to go out. I want to bake something. I want to climb under the couch and hide. I want to dig a hole in the dirt and bury my head in it.
This is not comfortable. This will pass. I will wait. February will come.
Oh hon. I was wondering how you were doing with this.
ReplyDeletei don't have any of those accounts. so low tech. but it is me, nikki. just wanted to let you know that i read this and i am feeling so very sad that you still suffer so much with your loss and with your memories of the time your mother was so very sick. please know i am here, your friends are all here. you can talk to me any time. day or night. middle of the night. this is tough tough stuff. several of my friends have lost a mother and it is a profound loss. love you lots.....
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