It's that time of year again. A couple of days ago...or maybe it was yesterday, who can remember?...I found myself flat on my back in bed for hours in the middle of the day, zoned out, exhausted. Feeling depleted. Finally, I remembered what day it was. What day is coming up. I suppose I'm grateful that I didn't start feeling bad until this week. It's interesting (well, to me, anyway) how my body reacts to the unutterable sadness that invades me now apparently every year around this time. I was really hoping to avoid it this year, but I suppose it's inevitable.
I'm not complaining. It's just ... well, really, I think it's somehow prosaic. How mourning and grieving can just continue on for years after the people you loved are gone. But I suppose it's also human. And I think I can spare John and Mouse a week. Heck, I celebrate my own damn birthday for a week (or try to). I'm still managing to live my life as I need to, if not always how I want to.
But that, as they say, is a different story. Next time.
