You know what I learned this week? Canned peaches and cool whip makes me feel better. Not, like, healthy better, but emotionally better. Yum. And yuck. All at the same time. But mostly yum.
Shoulder pain less but still pervasive. I'm sure this weather isn't helpful. I feel like a great, grey thumb is pinning me down. And divine spittle is hitting me in the face. And even though I was up first thing this morning and out all day working, I still don't feel like I saw daylight. So in rebellion I'm getting under the duvet and putting in a movie. And it's only 3:20 in the afternoon! HA!
I seem to be in slightly better spirits today. I think being back at work and planning for the next couple of months is good for me. Plus, a lot of alone time this weekend was very, very good. The promise of fresh hair, (a little hairticulture, Warren says), and possibly a new frock doesn't make me sad, either.
Each day my sadness spreads out, like viscous liquid, slowly escaping from a vessel and becoming an ever widening puddle. Thick and quiet, taking up more and more space, but thinning, too. So that it is present always, but the veil is fine, like silk, allowing glimpses of shadows and figures on the other side. I'm sure, and I'm told, that this mourning will take many forms, over a long time, and I'm sure, and I'm told, that the tears will come forcefully and randomly. But right now, this moment, I just feel wrapped in the warmth of having known my dad, and feel not bereft, but grateful, and full.
Love is remarkable.