Happy by Design

 It's been six months since Geordie died, and I am still looking for a happy day.  Have decided to manufacture happiness. 

I'm happy that I contracted with another gardening group to clear the overgrown weeds growing where the old pond was.

I'm happy that I let a burdock plant grow so I could see what it was like in maturity.

I'm happy that there are two big clumps of goldenrod in the old pond area.  They are lovely and showy, 6-foot high specimens as long as you remember not to notice the plants they have overtaken. 

I'm happy that the worker didn't do a perfect job weed-whacking the path.  Now I have a small, manageable areas to whipper-snip instead of one large one.

I'm happy that I sprained my hip.  Now I have a good excuse for not doing much for days and days.

I'm happy that I put the pictures of Mike on the hall wall.  Now I can see him and talk to him as I pass going from room to room.

I'm happy that I'm learning not to care who judges me.  It's nice being a solitary person. 

There are so many things to be happy about that I can almost give up being sad. 

 

Just Like Me

 A quote from Hila Colman: "She felt tears dripping down her cheeks, and she wondered if anyone would ever miss her if she simply sat here, drinking coffee for days and days, years and years."

And that's about it -- even though my daughter lives just next door and drops in to make sure I'm all right, I feel alone.  And I want to be alone.  Kelly is so kind and will do just about anything to ensure that I am happy, but only I can make me happy. 

It's hot , never the less I intend to work in the garden this afternoon.  The morning glories need to be planted -- the over-wintering ones are just starting.

The green growth in the stone walkway is ankle high and needs attending to.  I will weed-whack some this afternoon.  "Small, achievable goals." 

Still Missing Him

Friends tell me that time will reduce the pain.  It's been 5 months and still I cry.  When will I be able to have a whole day without tears.  I am trying to stay busy but loneliness overwhelms me without warning.  It catches in my throat and then the tears come.

Days fold into nights and into days again.  Time goes by but the pain persists.   Maybe tomorrow will be better.  I have a lovely picture of him in the hallway.  Whenever I pass it, I speak to him and beg him to answer.  Imagine talking to a picture on the wall!

If anyone else talked like this, I would've told them to get over it.  Is this intense grief another learning experience?  Today's lesson:  don't judge until you've experienced it.  I'm 83 for goodness sakes and still having lessons on being human.  

Mike Died

I want to write a piece about my feelings and my experience but right now as soon as I begin to write, I get all snively and  can't see the keyboard.  Perhaps I can finish the article next week