Grief

I've read there are stages of grief.    My darling sister died a year ago.   I'm angry, mostly.   It's not fair.    It was fast.   We weren't ready.   None of us. 

A part of my heart, childhood, memory, pain, laughter and all we did and had and went through together is gone.  

Plans we made, trips to take, places to live and share and grow old together, but not too close together; they are all dashed.   Forever on the drawing board.   I don't know that we would have lived in halves of a duplex, but the point is, we COULD HAVE.   And now we can't.   Ever.   

I have to continue.   To go on.  

But I'm still angry.    Not at her.    Though we fought sometimes.   Scratching, kicking, full out hair pulling fights.    And we didn't always see eye to eye.   But when it came down to the tough times, the bad days at work, the frustrating family gatherings... we were always there for one another.

I miss her.  I miss the feeling that I should be calling her more.   I miss her stories about her friends.   I miss her postcards from business trips. 

I'm working on these things.   I'm trying to feel like doing more than existing.   I'm trying to have more energy than it takes to just get through the day.  

I love you Karen.    I miss you.    I know it's selfish.  I know you are happy and at peace.   You have no more questions.  No more airport security, itchy tags, wet bathroom floors, pain, upset stomach, vegetables you don't like and people who piss you off.  

We have no more truth, no more force to push us through.   No more moral compass, no more laughing and late night snacks.  

You have entered a line of strong, kind women who went before.  Who taught us the right way to fold fitted sheets and iron shirts.   To bake cakes and cookies, bandage scrapes and make people feel welcome and loved.   You still lead us with your spirit.  

One foot in front of the other.  

Out with the old..

aah, Spring.  wait, it's not spring yet!   This happens to me every year.   I'm tired of boots and coats and gloves and scraping off my car.   I want to wear my sandals.   

I've been taking myself to "classic" films showing at a local movie theater on Saturdays.   I like it.  I've seen most of them already, some of them I own.   This costs $4.   It may seem silly, but rather than languish at home, coming up with perfectly good reasons NOT to go out on the weekend, I get myself out, if only for a short while.   I like that too.

Plus I'm not really into retail therapy.  I tried it, I used to do it and I thought it felt great.  I now have so many things I don't really need I find myself cleaning dressers and drawers and cupboards out.   More than I'd like to.   So I'm not buying things I don't need anymore.  I'm not shopping, I'm getting.   Getting food, getting a new coffee maker because mine isn't working properly.   I like that too.   And coffee.

Coming up with a new start for spring.  I'm not going to lie, I'd love some new clothes.   I've been losing weight, so I'm going to wait a while.  

So I'll hunker down here, cleaning out, sloughing off the old.   Often finding the new, lighter version awaiting underneath.   I like that.

ah, I'm back to a new "lifestyle" change.  er..diet.  err..weight loss program.  This time it involves nutrition, behavior therapy and exercise assistance.   So far I like it, and it feels different to me.  I'm always optimistic when I start these things.    How can I make sure this time is different?

That is the burning question.  If I had The Answer, I'd have it down by now.   I shall keep on trying.  

 I think part of the trick is keeping myself busy.   Not easy when sometimes I'd rather just be alone.   and mopey.    I have to do this.   I'm too important.   (positive self talk)

Okay, enough of that.  I have things to do.   And they don't involve sitting at this desk in the dark, staring at a screen.  

Right?  Right!

Recently, I went away on vacation. I didn't do anything spectacular, but I had a nice time. I relaxed. I ate, I slept, I read. I watched TV, went places with my beau. It was awesome. We've traveled together before, he's come here and we've gone on day trips, but this was nice just to be. To be together.

As I boarded the bus to take me away from him to the airport, it felt like all that heat that builds up on the picnic table all day, once the sun goes down, dissipating from the painted wood beneath me.

I love him and I miss being with him. I don't like this long distance thing we do. But we have to right now.

And so, with the end of daylight savings, I go back to work, and come home in the dark.

Sometimes, I love living alone. Other times, it freaks me out. I'm pretty sure what just happened was something like an acid reflux episode but while it was happening, I felt like I was going to die. Home. Alone.

It's like that scene in "Frankie and Johnny" when Michelle Pfeiffer nearly chokes on a spoonful of peanut butter. She's all alone, feels that panic, relief, and then still alone, sadness.

I sure hope this isn't something that sticks around. I hope this is it, like the one migraine I had, and then it goes on it's merry way.

All I can say without going into too much detail, is that I hate being or feeling sick. That was horrible, and it felt like I was suffocating. It scared me! But now, I'm feeling much more calm. I'm just not sure if I'll be able to eat any more of that great batch of stuff I made earlier today.

Oh stop your whining. At least I'm queen of the remote control, right?