Creating an Urban Homestead
Mike appeared in dreamland after I hit the snooze button on my alarm this morning.
In my dream, we were outside, and it was springtime. We were with some other people, perhaps Marley and Avery and Dinny. Mike was happy, smiling. I told him I was so glad that he got out of the hospital. At the same time, I was amazed he had healed with no one visiting him at the hospital. And I felt terribly guilty that I had not visited him at the hospital. Continue reading “Mike in dreamland”
Still not a great day.
Before I ask about quilters, let me rant a bit.
I seem to go for a while thinking things are okay, and then the bottom drops out again–you’d think I’d learn the routine. I just like to think that the despair, grief and sadness will someday be bad memories only. But they come back into my life like unexpected and unwanted guests with little rhyme or reason for their comings and goings (other than the obvious overall situation). I have a good week and wham, before I get too cocky they’re back to remind me that I have no business feeling competent, energetic, or even mildly happy.
Continue reading “First, a rant. Then a question about quilters.”
Note to self: you are no longer allowed to give into the temptation of feeling guilty for having a good (or even a not bad or neuteral) hour, day or week.
These last few days have been hell on earth. Nothing in particular seems to be different from last week, except that my heart feels crushed and I can’t stop crying. The weather is beautiful, its the weekend and I know damn well what it would have been like if Mike hadn’t checked out. Continue reading “Down the hill we go again–when will this shit ever end?”
An eventful week or two has past; I’ve gone from feeling energetic, almost giddy, to down in the dumps sad and longing for things to be how they used to be, to today’s uninspired blase feeling of caring about nothing. I can’t quite figure it out. Continue reading “Rollercoaster”
I had a dream that started off as a remodeling/construction nightmare, but it evolved into a scene where Mike and his mom, Dinny, appeared.
It was pretty bright and Mike had his sunglasses on an had a huge smile on his face. He was actually beaming. He was wearing the white shirt that he wore at the funeral home, but in the dream he was standing and looking radiant (although I was slightly annoyed that I couldn’t see his eyes b/c of the sunglasses). Continue reading “Time to Let Him Go”
My son is tough, energetic, funny, and makes his presence known at all times.
I’m not sure whether to chalk up his uber-spirited behavior as of late to the fact that he is a three-year-old (which by many accounts is much more challenging than the so-called “terrible twos”), his innate energy/personality, or the tragic situation he has been thrown into. Surely it is a combination of all three. It is stretching my patience to the limits and beyond. Continue reading “Avery”
Back into the post-holiday swing of things. Sort of. Despite my best attempts to have a regular schedule and fill our social calendar with things to do, grief still manages to sneak its way into the program. Continue reading “Back to reality”