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With coffee and writing implements at hand, I can determine the shape of today. |
| I tend to write in the morning. After morning coffee and writing comes whatever the day holds...work, more writing, family time, reading, maybe even some gaming. It just depends...but writing first, always. And once I start writing, I get an idea not only of what I'm writing about, but how the rest of my day will go. Hence, the shape of today. |
| Now that things are settling on the home front, it's time for me to turn my hand to writing once more. This is what Dad would have wanted, for me to chase the dream dearest to me. After all, I'm not getting any younger myself. And so I can consider participating in NaNoWriMo, which I previously hadn't been able to do. Hopefully come November there will be enough structure in my life to hit that magical 1,667 words per day. As a matter of fact, I know I'm already doing more than considering it because I've ditched both previous projects from my NaNoWriMo page to make room for a new one. And I think I even know which one I want to work with, though I want to make certain adjustments to it before committing it to NaNoWriMo. If all goes as I hope it will, I'll have an enjoyable and profitable project to work with! With that in mind, I'm off to tinker with said project before the day's errands begin. No time like the present, eh? |
| This one last time, I'll use a "sailing" metaphor to describe my personal situation. The "storm" that has ravaged me for so long has ended at last. It ended Friday morning with a phone call from the rehab facility. A sorrowful nurse told me that Dad's suffering is over. I won't go into the details, as I am still learning those myself. I also won't go on and on about my grief...that is a thing I will carry with me to the end of my own days. It's been very nearly 35 years to the day since we lost Mom; you never truly get over it. Nor should you. A person who was a big part of your life is gone, and nothing can fill that void except your own memories and love. Time must do the rest. There is an annoying little voice in my heart that bemoans the fact that I should have been there with him at the end, but that would not have been possible with the COVID lockdown at the place. I am comforted by the fact that I'd spoken to him on the phone before he apparently took a turn for the worse, and got to tell him I love him one last time. That same annoying voice asks me if I could have done more while he was home here, but I knew I had been doing all I could for him. He knew too; that's why he asked me to call 911 on July 4th so he could be taken back to the hospital. I remember telling him that day that I would miss him while he was gone, and he looked at me very clearly and said, "Yes, but you'll get over it. And you've got your own life to live." He knew. I just pray that he and God will forgive me for all the times I was weak, that I let anxiety and frustration get the better of me. I know it happens to caregivers everywhere, often in worse situations that Dad's ever was. He's beyond pain, now. He's with Mom again. He's free, and so am I. And while sorrow will ride with me, the fear that clouded my vision is gone. I can see the way ahead. And I feel a new strength, even at this sad time, that comes from knowing two great spirits are also riding with me. |
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