Filling In Time

 Sometimes's I awake in the morning and think "What's the use of getting up."  Geordie is not here and living is meaningless without him.

Imagine it's been a year and a half since he passed and I still cry.  I try to busy myself with things and find myself stopping in the middle of a job or an activity and give up.  I tell myself that I should be getting over Geordie's passing but it's just as fresh and as it was last year. 

I wrote about the picture I had but haven't told you I have a "Geordie wall" with five pictures of him hanging on the wall down the hall.  When I pass the pictures in the morning or at bedtime, I talk to each pictures.  Sort of a sick routine. 

My "garden" is a mess.  Along the side where the fence will be replaced is full of Physalis (Chinese Lantern) and Virginia creeper waiting for me to pull them.  Virginia Creeper is a tyrant creeping low and close to the fence and popping up in unexpected places.

The Trump Vine that I planted so many years ago and dug out when it began to creep is still in my back neighbour's yard untended and allowed to grow where it will.  And it wills to come back into my back fence and beyond.  It can travel underground for several feet and then show itself  and grow vigourously where I don't want it.

 It's been too hot for me to weed this week.  My days just pass.  I eat at prescribed eating times and sleep in the afternoon. I go in for a visit with Kirk and Kelly every afternoon just before supper and stay for supper in their place for 3 meals a week.  Cooking for one is difficult.  I stick to easy things like peanut butter sandwiches or scrambled eggs.  The meals I have next door I pay for -- only $40 a week, but I don't each much.

Because of the daily visits, I keep myself clean with regular showers and laundry washing.  The routines make me do something that I probably wouldn't do otherwise.  I tell myself Geordie wouldn't like the rut I've gotten myself into but he's in a non-judgmental place just waiting for me to finish up. 

Well this had been a downer of a bog note.  Perhaps I'll feel better next week.