Everyday, I'm grieving. Everyday I'm haunted by that horrible, horrible place the Old Woman was in before she died. Everyday, I remember more of what we lost.
This week, I watched on facebook, and offered up somewhat empty words of sympathy to, a friend who initially traveled back home to be by her grandmother as she was dying only to have her father fall ill and die before her grandmother. In fact, at one point, her father and grandmother were in the same room in the hospice care facility. Now, as she stands up next to her father's casket, shaking hands and receiving hugs from people she barely remembers, she knows that any day now, the process will start all over again for her grandmother.
Today is the anniversary of the very sudden death of one of my dearest friends in the world. All day yesterday, I wondered "are his sons remembering last year and thinking it was their last good day with their dad" ? Next week, they will turn 12 years old. It hurts to think that these fine boys will not have one of the best men I've ever known to help guide them into becoming good men.
Frankly, I'm tired of being sad.