self love and also how

state of confusion

unsere Sonnenblume

via GIPHY

I-70, Kansas, March 2019

I haven't, I thought, I didn't (I knew)

I haven't been able to write much, these past couple of weeks. My mind is faraway, in Kansas.
I thought I was ready for goodbye, and it turns out I was not.
I didn't know it would be this hard. (I knew: Dugie, Mom, Grampa. But I had forgotten.)
*
I haven't slept much since mid-March.
I thought she might make it to 100.
I didn't know at 97 she would fight so hard. To stay in the hospital and then to be let go. (I knew she was tough but not this tough.)
*
I haven't stopped feeling sad at a primal level for so long (Dugie, Mom, Grampa, now Her).
I thought you got over it--the loss--that you got closure, you moved on.
I didn't know that they stay with you always, in the beat of the heart and the glimpse of an old photo and the clasp of a hand. (I knew: Dugie, Mom, Grampa, now Her. But I had forgotten.)

Oak and 16th, Hays, America

over. it.

Today I write from a place of pain, and sadness.
This year has not been the friendliest.
Yes, duh, I know, but I don't mean in the cosmic sense, or Madness USA #wereallgonnadie sense.
(That's starting to feel like the norm--not normal--but, reality.)
For me personally, in my own private universe, things have just felt -- off.
Work is kind of a nightmare.
Last week I smashed up my knee, again. Every painful hobble is a reminder to slow down, to get some rest, to chill.
*
And this week, a person I love so dearly is not doing well, will probably not do well ever again, and I am feeling all the emotions.
I know I'll be okay and we'll be okay but this good-bye forever stuff is hard.
It takes me back 15 years and saying good-bye forever to my mother.
After the sleepless night and the hot tears and the chaotic decisions, and then -- the quiet. The cold despair.
Then, emerging from the hospital into the brilliant Arizona sun, and realizing in a flash that I would never walk the planet with my mother again.
I couldn't believe it, and yet I could never un-know it.
It was the most singularly painful moment of my life, so far, and still.
I did everything I could for her, and I don't regret it. The tears and sadness just remind me that she was a person, my person, and I will always miss her.
*
I wish I had a cheery adieu for this today, but I don't.