I am having days that might be called good days, good being a relative term, defined differently than it would have been six months ago. I am surrounded by people whom I love, people who love me. I have work to do that I love, actually. I get emails and real mail, one thing or another every few days, that keep me going. I have a couple of people to whom I can pour out my heart, say the things which most people cannot bear to hear.
And yet . . .
as I am writing a take-home exam for seminary, my husband pushes a tax return across the table for my signature, as administrator of the estate of my child. The child who a year ago was exulting over his first refund.
Most of my classmates are not going home in the evenings to documents like that.
It's not that I feel sorry for myself. It's just what my life is now.
And sometimes I just want to stretch my body out in the desert, to lie as still as possible in the dry sand as a rattlesnake slides by, and to let the sun bake away the waves of sadness that ripple visibly through the heat.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
7 comments:
A wilderness, indeed.
I laid in the sun yesterday, in the desert, but in my backyard. No rattlesnakes, (still hibernating) but hot sun.
I think, perhaps, the desert sun can bake away sorrow....
Warm prayers...
Warm hugs and wishes that, with the return of the light and lengthening of the days, the periods of "good" also increase.
Don't do too much baking though--lest you end up with the skin cancers like I have.
Word verification=oratori Despite the misspelling, it's something at which you are, I'm sure, quite good.
stretch out and listen.
I'm thankful you have so many soul-supporting comforts in your grief and that is a powerful visualization (except for that snake thing...). I've never had one of those massages that somehow involve warm stones, but that comes to mind as a possible substitute for a trip to Tucson (although we have already hit 90 one day). Warmth can indeed be so very releasing along with all the other therapies you can get. I think of you daily since I happened to drop by. Though an infrequent 'fly on the wall' type visitor, I never fail to come away with a helpful nugget (or boulder) to rest upon and I hurt for you, dear one.
*debbi*
I am sorry for your loss. One of my "firsts" was doing my tax return as a widow. I wish you the best. elaine
Post a Comment