Rough day

I wasted yesterday, I suppose.

Today I listened to recordings of people speaking of their experience, strength and hope when their lives were most difficult. I made some notes.

I spoke with sister June. When to come and what to wear.

I ate my cereal, to which I added flaxseed meal, wheat bran, psyllium seed husks, lecithin, Splenda, cinnamon, dried blueberries, and unsweetened soymilk.

I met with a friend who I talk with Sunday afternoons. We spoke about powerlessness and unmanageability.

I visited the future memorial site, checked on the tables, the effect of scattering dust from various points along the shoreline.

I walked on the river bottom.

I asked for a sign and a huge ship passed by. I was not convinced of my sign-reading ability.

I looked across the river for the presence of a lost friend. Gone, busy. Maybe.

I had a cheese burger and four or five limp french fries. I left a tip and no goodbye.

I bought spinach and almonds and 6 eggs. And Krazy Glue, but it didn't fix my sunglass-clip-on. I bought gas and washed her car.

I drove by the Dollar Tree and by Mayhew and by the last place we went on a Saturday night, and drove by her old shop remembering the times I had dropped her off and picked her up.

I read a letter from sister Kelly. A little sanity and a touch.

I again tried to cancel her eBay seller account on-line but they're still full of obstacles to account cancellation. I'll have to call tomorrow. She had 100% positive ratings.

I watered the plants she planted just before she died. It was hot today.

I sat on the porch and watched the dogs and dog walkers go by. I pondered her gardening shoes and gloves and tools, right where she left them on the porch.

I walked to the end of the street, to where she used to walk Gray to school, to that little path between the houses that has the little bridge over the little stream, under the big oak and hickory trees, that comes out on the back of the baseball field of the elementary school, and then I walked back again, past the yellow house where that nice old man used to live who walked briskly around the block every evening with a big smile, and I thought about Shirley our next door neighbor whose kids moved her out to an assisted living place. She sent a nice thank you note to Kim after we visited her there. Kim kept it in the kitchen card holder where you can see it.

I held her ashes and wished I had my arm around her instead. My mind gets it but not my heart. They've all been without exception rough days. Now I know what missing someone really means. Yes I do.