I am in here.
Two weeks. It seems longer than that. Other peoples’ deaths warp time for the survivors, I think. I’d say “grief” instead of “death” but I have no idea if this is grief I feel. It’s nothing like I felt at my father’s death. I need a new definition. I need a word that means both … Continue reading definitions
And wow, only 6 months to go, folks! And why not… it takes that long to read the bleeding book! However, Joyce was a genius. A genius who kept a lady’s stocking in his pocket, but a genius nevertheless. Come on now, folks, recite after me…. “Stately, plump Buck Mulligan….” Rejoyce Don’t know if you … Continue reading Joyce
It would have surprised me even yesterday morning how much of an emotional drain that burying your mother is. I’d felt steady all week, after all. Everything went as planned, many people came to the mass, and even Aunt Helen and Uncle Darth were nice to me — at least, as nice as you can … Continue reading Afterwards
I’ve moved myself into my son’s old room, which has a nice thick rug on the floor for crawling upon (not allowed to put weight on my foot even if I could stand the pain), and a new futon in the corner upon which I now conduct my life. If I am laid up, I … Continue reading I dream of nightmares
white pebble 