It's been a tough day for me. Easter. Holiday. James made a gorgeous dinner for Jan and I, which he worked on all day. I wish I hadn't had a breakdown in the middle of it.
I worked outside in the front gardens all afternoon, but I really didn't accomplish much. Rearranged some paths, transplanted things.
I had a very short conversation with Bump, who was understandably busy. It hadn't occurred to me to send the kids' Easter cards or Easter gifts or to color any eggs. It didn't even cross my mind. I will not win Nana of the year.
I wish I could get the hang of this holiday thing. To me they seem to be over-commercialized, over-stressed, over-sugared opportunities for disappointment. I thought I was catching on at Christmas, but I was wrong. Disappointment.
I hope I sleep less than 19 hours today as I did last night. One should at least feel energized after that, don't you think?
Less than 19 days until we bury Mom's ashes next to Papa's grave in Carthage, Illinois. We will be grieving not only our parents, grandparents, great grandparents, friends, neighbors, but we will also be grieving the place. Many places, many memories. And between Mom's funerals, Bean died. She was a one of a kind friend/person/talent.
And every death is every death.
As someone wiser than I put it, when close family member dies, it's not as if we lost her. That person didn't just go away. They are amputated from us. We are not who we were.
James doesn't know what's going on with me. I've no way to explain it.
It's taken so long for me to write, which is a bit weird, since I have so much to say. I have emotions like sediment on the bottom of the pond. Every time they start to settle something stirs them all up again and the water gets too murky.
I'm grateful that I'm trying to write now.
I worked outside in the front gardens all afternoon, but I really didn't accomplish much. Rearranged some paths, transplanted things.
I had a very short conversation with Bump, who was understandably busy. It hadn't occurred to me to send the kids' Easter cards or Easter gifts or to color any eggs. It didn't even cross my mind. I will not win Nana of the year.
I wish I could get the hang of this holiday thing. To me they seem to be over-commercialized, over-stressed, over-sugared opportunities for disappointment. I thought I was catching on at Christmas, but I was wrong. Disappointment.
I hope I sleep less than 19 hours today as I did last night. One should at least feel energized after that, don't you think?
Less than 19 days until we bury Mom's ashes next to Papa's grave in Carthage, Illinois. We will be grieving not only our parents, grandparents, great grandparents, friends, neighbors, but we will also be grieving the place. Many places, many memories. And between Mom's funerals, Bean died. She was a one of a kind friend/person/talent.
And every death is every death.
As someone wiser than I put it, when close family member dies, it's not as if we lost her. That person didn't just go away. They are amputated from us. We are not who we were.
James doesn't know what's going on with me. I've no way to explain it.
It's taken so long for me to write, which is a bit weird, since I have so much to say. I have emotions like sediment on the bottom of the pond. Every time they start to settle something stirs them all up again and the water gets too murky.
I'm grateful that I'm trying to write now.
1 comment:
Keep writing, Fayla. It's cathartic. I've gotten the most insight when I've gone back through my writings. As for stirring up the sediment, sometimes it's good to get that sediment separated. It's only then that we can get the toxic parts separated from the rest. Dredge that shit out.
and get rid of it!
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