It’s That Little Souvenir of a Terrible Year

…which makes my eyes feel sore.

Disoriented.  That’s what I am.  Because I know they are gone, but it feels somehow temporary.  Which is ridiculous.  But, it can’t be real.  If it were real I’d lose my mind.  And I can’t lose my mind, thus it isn’t real.  Right?

It’s like a compass, but there’s no magnetic north.  What is it then?  Just a needle spinning wildly around?  Or would it sit in one place?  Hm.  The point is, it is no longer a fucking useful tool.  It no longer orients you.

So yeah, I’m disoriented.  I can’t remember who is here and who isn’t.  I can, it just takes work.  I have to think really hard about the littlest things.

And I’m not one to complain about losing weight, but I know it’s not because I’m trying to.  It’s because food nauseates me.  Nothing sounds even remotely appetizing.

And flat.  I feel flat.  I’m stuck in this flat, disoriented space and the sky seems so large.  Like it might swallow me whole.  I think if I jumped in, and let the ache behind my eyes become tears, it might help.  But I’m not there yet.

I’m here.  Flat and disoriented.


Here’s Where the Story Ends – The Sundays


Surreal, It Is

He was just here.

That’s what we keep saying.  Six weeks ago he was on the couch.  Uncomfortable, and in pain, but very much alive.  They said it was osteoporosis.  At 51.  From prednisone.  They were wrong.

It was multiple myeloma.  Diagnosed and dead in two weeks.

That sounds so harsh.  It is harsh.  But it’s the only way I can process it, feel it, really understand it.

I think about talking to Dad about it, briefly.

Then I remember.  Dad is dead, too.

I didn’t ‘lose’ him.  I know exactly where he is.  He’s just not living.

And then I realize it’s September, nearly October.

And at the end of October it will have been one year since Julie fell down her staircase and died.

It’s been a horrible fucking year.

I started writing again today.  I’m hoping it will help me push some of the pain out.  Because the pain is huddled in my head and my tummy and I can’t think and I can’t sleep and I can’t cry.  I just ache.

I ache terribly.

(Does anyone care…)


“The term sabbatical is derived from the biblical Sabbath which serves an ancient human need to build periods of rest and rejuvenation into a lifetime.” It has been a bit of a month. I can’t even remember everything that happened. I’m trying, but honestly, my mind is just blank. I know there was lots of … Read more