I have been feeling pretty smug. Life was getting, if not easier, at least a little less painful. I had been actually accomplishing some grown-up things like talking to the mortgage company about helping me stay in my home–renegotiating the loan and all that entails. I actually had been sleeping through the night–midnight to 5 a.m. is through the night, right? I have made it in to work on time and stayed all day fully 3 weeks in a row–without losing it in the ladies room every hour or so. I was feeling pretty pleased that the worst was behind me. Uh-uh. This morning should have been overcast and miserable. My mood certainly was. Some bug in my ear made going out to Ft. Rosecrans an absolute imperative. I never go to ‘visit’ at cemeteries–well, never until today. The government said they would write to let me know when the plaque was put in place on his niche. It’s there; they didn’t. Some stranger asked, “Are the ashes really in the wall?” oh, yep, they’re there. There are really good friends living their lives not a mile from me. My kids are in town and they love and support me. I don’t drink too much or take drugs other than as prescribed and right this minute I feel so very alone that I may short out my keyboard with my tears. It’s Memorial Day. Lane always grills for Memorial Day. There are always people in the pool and beer on ice and lots of horsing around and happy grandgirls shrieking at each other. In short this is one of the happiest holidays in our year–historically anyway. Elizabeth Hospice has a Monday night support group. I hope it will meet tomorrow. God, I hurt. I am not feeling smug at all.
