Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Time drips so slowly

Time is like a slow dripping faucet. Drip.... drip...... drip.  Has it only been 7 months since I lost my sweetie. It feels like a hundred years. And, some days I feel like I am 100.

I am in Nebraska visiting my son and daughter-in-law and alone most of the time. People do have to work, I guess. I feel the depression (which, by the way, I was keeping at bay very well back home) dripping into my body... drip.... drip... drip. Every day I am more saturated with it.

This is the first time I have visited Michael since his Dad passed and it hurts. I have cried alot. You see, when the two of us visited before I had Elbert to see about. And, I had his companionship, the connection of being a couple. I feel so doggone empty. I know that it must affect Michael as well. Missing his Dad, I mean.

Every 'first' is so hard. This is just another one of those first I have to go through. Drip.... drip..... drip.

2 comments:

Peggy said...

Hi Latane,you are having a bad 'patch'.The first of anything is always a bit of an ordeal,and being in someone elses house is a bit awkward.If you were at home you could get up and do something to take your mind off things.
You are never down for long Latane, getting it off your chest will hopefully make you feel better.
take care x

NewKidontheBlogg said...

Tears and the dripping of time. Hmmmmm Scripture talks about weaping with those who weap. One day in heaven there will be no more tears. I like that!

Meanwhile grief is just going to take time, dripping as you said.

One Christmas I was in the hospital with my father and my mom had died several months earlier. We both cried. It seems that this is the season of mouring for you and I can understand that for both of you.

I also reflect when my late husband died that I was happy he didn't have to be the one left behind. Eventually I got through, remarried, and now am facing my husband's Alzheimer's, looking to jewels like you are to savor every day I have with him. Thanks for paving the way.

Hugs and prayers,
Carol