People (mostly my absent husband and my therapist) always ask me... Why do you blog? Why don't you talk to someone?
I've never been able to answer that question. The answer is always- I don't know.
My friends always say- I'm a phone call away.. I'm here for you.. Anytime, day or night.. My mom or sister would afford me the same courtesy. My husband, well, if he were around, and if he weren't so wrapped up in his own self, he may as well.
And so, why do I blog?
I don't know.
I sit here in my garage, my "office". Alone.
Alone except for my adopted manchild, two stories above me playing video games.
Alone except for the dogs, soundly snoring on their couch in the living room.
Alone except for the sound of David Gray singing "This Year's Love" on YouTube.
Alone, except for my own unquiet mind.
Mom brought down an old box of photographs. Which I need to go through, in order to start making boards, and posters, and a slide show for Dad's memorial next weekend.
I can't go through them right now. As much of a time crunch we are on, it will have to wait.
Just over two weeks now since Dad's been gone. It still seems quite unreal. Most times now, which might be "normal", I just kind of... forget. And then once in a while, you remember, quite violently.
But even during the times of "forgetting", there is still this weird underlying "knowing". That's the empty part.
But I guess I shouldn't blog about it. It only makes me look like.. how did my husband put it.. "playing victim, crying for sympathy, blogging all over facebook"...
That might have something to do with why I don't talk to anyone.
And now I'll go back to my alone time. I'm thinking I'd better get used to it.