The first day of Spring and all its promises…
Leaning against the window frame watching the sun come up
It rises gently as I drink from my emptying coffee cup
The brilliant cardinals flit in and out of the pine tree in the neighbors’ yard across
the street as the family of squirrels in my old oak begin to scurry about.
I stand there feeling happy and blessed although alone
then the neighbor to the east of me starts his Harley scaring the birds
the squirrels and me.
I turn with an obscene thought for him then smile knowing he will be gone
most of the day.
Tonight I totally lost all semblance of strength and just burst into tears. Not a day goes by I don’t think of my daughter, it’s seven years and the pan is as raw today as it was Feb 19, 2011. Generally, I can think of her with happiness and a bit of a trembling lip when the fact she is gone hits me. Yet tonight I lost it as if I had just received that horrible phone call. I know the agony of losing her will be with me until the day I pass away but Lord I wish it didn’t hurt so bad the majority of the time.
My immune system and other ailments have me weak physically and stress has had me for a really long time, depression as well. I just thought I was doing so well and if others were around and hubs weren’t asleep they would be putting me in a straitjacket.
I don’t know why I am writing this just needed to get it off my chest. I need no pity or comfort I just needed to write it.
The first day of Daylight Savings Time (DST), it is a dark, gloomy, cloudy day feeling like winter more than a nearness of Spring. I had hoped for a bright glorious day to give us all huge smiles. It would be a day with one less hour of the fake in the WH and his crew.
Instead, it was a day that had a ray of beautiful sun beamed through the window onto the hardwood floor, I would have tripped over it.
We place our hearts in the hard frozen ground
shedding tears over the coffin turning them to icicles to
melt and flow again, as they will time and again from this day forward.
We’ve placed the spray of flowers, plucking one or two as a
memento as if we should ever need reminding.
Young and old we put in beautiful boxes, subconsciously
believing the more beautiful the box the more others
know how deep our love.
We place them one at a time or 17, 26, or 100’s
No matter what has caused us to buy tiny plots of ground
all lined up with numbers and names individually or in masses.
Down into the hardened ground, the dark, to never see the light again Never to laugh, dance, love, live.
Fragments of dust, the best of us is gone.
So hard to accept, to cope, to understand
Why the best of us is gone.
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