It seems only yesterday when Mike passed. Has it really been almost two years? I purchased a winter bouquet saddle for the gravestone and that opened up a mass of memories.
One would think that my grief would begin to wane now, but it's still fresh. I don't want to die, but I do. Talking to the pictures every day really doesn't help with my healing, I'm thinking. But I don't want to take them down. Not just yet -- maybe never.
I am beginning a major cleaning out now. I will discard something every week. After my fall last week, I realize that I will not be able to handle the house and live on my own for ever. I'm going to have to consider assisted living sometime. But the house is full of things Mike and I collected through the years. It is time for someone else to love them.
I have mentioned to Kelly that she may want to look over what is in each room -- slowly of course -- so that I have a firm idea about what has to go. She's so nice and doesn't want to think of the idea just yet.
Lately, I've been wondering what shape I will have when I pass out of this time and space. I don't think I'll become a little green man! Will I have a body or just be a mind? I'm beginning to think of death as a moult where I leave this body and at last return to my real self. A butterfly analogy.
I'm nearly 85 for goodness sakes! Is there still something I am supposed to do or realize or experience before I pass? I'm still hale and healthy -- not really death material yet. What a mystery the end times are! Each day brings something different.
This year the maple trees have succumbed to something and have been dropping dried and tar-spotted leaves. The street maples are almost bare. They won't be giving us any autumn glory this year. Is this a sign of climate change? The earth is going through great changes right before our eyes.
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