Saturday, November 7, 2009

If I Could

Meant to post this Thursday. Didn't. Woke up with it in my head today. Took that as a sign. Here you go.

A brand new baby was born yesterday,
Just in time
Papa cried, baby cried
Said, your tears are like mine
I heard some words
from a friend on the phone,
didn't sound so good
The doctor gave him two weeks to live
I'd give him more if I could

You know that I would now
If only I could
You know that I would now
If only I could

Down the middle drops one more
grain of sand
They say that
new life makes losing life easier to understand
Words are kind
they help ease the mind
I miss my old friend
And though you gotta go
we'll keep a piece of your soul
One goes out
One comes in

You know that I would now
If only I could
You know that I would now
If only I could

("If I Could" - Jack Johnson)

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The first year

Tomorrow marks a year. A year already? Only a year? Either way...

I've made it a year - a year without her. Without my best friend. My mother. My sounding board. My comforter. The one person in the whole world who understood me the best. Who understood what I was trying to say when I couldn't find the right words even remotely. Who knew the right words to say to bring me out of the spiraling black holes that I used to find myself in, and that I may yet find myself in again some day.

I am not going to work tomorrow. I am staying home. Or maybe I'm going out. My wonderful husband took the day off - to "support me as I go to the cemetery and put down flowers, and then have however many breakdowns as I want during the entire day" as he puts it. His friend Timm told him he was a wonderful man - I happen to agree. We haven't decided what we're doing beyond going to the cemetery. I do know that I'm leaving my phone home, and turning it off. I probably won't check my Facebook, or my emails - they'll have to be dealt with on Friday or over the weekend. I'm in hiding. I can barely handle my own grief, let alone anyone elses.

I've already warned my dad, and my uncle already sideswiped me on Monday with an email that said (and I quote) "I was sitting here at my computer missing Linda as the first anniversary of her death approaches and I figured she also must be on your minds. May God be with us all as our journey continues without the one we loved and the one who loved us in her own special way. Hope and pray you are doing okay and doing the grief work that needs to be done. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Please keep me in yours." It really was my initial reaction to email him back and say "Really? It's her one year anniversary is here already? huh - forgot all about it. She's completely slipped my mind - I never think about her. Idiot." To my credit, I did no such thing - I just deleted it and told my father to do the same.

Today I woke up with the familiar depression - deep enough I didn't want to get out of bed. I am not excited to see what tomorrow holds.