keep breathing

i'm sure the meltdown is not far off. i'm sure at some point i will freak out, cry, scream, feel that pain in your body and bones that starts to make you wretch and heave.

but so far.

not.

i feel tired. i feel like i can't fall asleep and i can't stay asleep and when i DO sleep, i am crunched up in weird positions so that i wake up contorted and achy. i wanted to get up this morning and run my 3 miler. but i didn't.

the weekend was that sort of slow kind of busy when you manage to find activities to fill up almost every minute even though you don't particularly want to be doing most of them. but i DID have the most marvelous tea latte at julius meinl on monday morning. i've been craving it ever since. a rooibos red velvet latte. it was divine. it was supposedly the special for the month, which means i will have to go back all week to get it again and again.

the things which occupy my thoughts. picking a dress to wear on saturday and scheming my way back to julius meinl.

i think of sad things. i have dull "missing" feelings. i see something and wish i could show mom. things i want to ask her. i want to tell her about the "wolverine" movie - she would like it. very violent, not very complex.

i realize on sunday afternoon that mom is never going to call me again on sunday afternoon and leave a message in her singsong voice "hi jill, it's your mom, give me a call when you have time. love you."

in fact, i will never hear her voice again.

except her singing voice, in my head, whenever i hear a song she used to sing.

but i don't cry about it. the thought enters and leaves my mind like a flitter of dust. the same way "don't forget to buy milk" or "it's supposed to rain today" might swoop in and out of your head.

all we can do is keep breathing
all we can do is keep breathing
all we can do is keep breathing

that last day that i sat with mom, she fell asleep into the "different" sleep at about 2pm. and i just stared at her chest rise and shudder and fall for about 4 hours. would she take another breath? was that the last one? would she wake up again? should i try to give her more medicine? staring staring. up and down. all the while praying that she would, in fact, go Home.

all we can do is keep breathing.

maybe i'm holding off until after saturday for the memorial. maybe i'm too tired to think about it. maybe i grieved so much during those last weeks that i just don't want to do it anymore.

maybe.

all we can do is keep breathing
now