Well, really sad, that's what it's like. Yesterday would have been his 30th birthday, and I was really sad the whole day.
Regular life has continued. Meals, chores, schoolwork. Thanksgiving was a blessing, as usual, with family and cooking and eating. I feel scattered and unable to focus many days. I think it has to do with the loss of that false sense of security that we have around us telling us we are all okay and safe. It isn't that I don't feel safe; it's just that I feel no guarantee that myself or anyone I love will live throughout the day every single day. Nice, right?
I have a strong testimony in the resurrection and restoration of our family, and that is so comforting. I don't doubt it, not for a second. God lives. Christ lives. We will all live again. This life is not the end of our existence or our relationships. The church is true.
I am usually struggling this time of year due to the hectic rush of the season, anyway, so I guess that isn't new. I feel behind in all preparation and planning for school, for Christmas, for everything. I keep telling myself it isn't a big deal, and since I really believe that, I can usually set the feeling on the back burner and leave it for awhile. But it creeps back up on me, the creepy creeper.
I often can't think what to do with my time. That has been since the beginning of the school year when I had no kids at home and no preschool to teach. I like having the time available to spend with Jess and family or just work on my personal challenges, but I wonder what "real" people do with their time. PS - don't say cleaning, because I'm not interested.
I also can't think what to eat, ever. All food seems like a booby trap. Isn't that weird? Well, I'm drinking Coke again (Gabe said, 'Finally!" when he found out, that stinker), and that only hurts my appetite, but even before it was difficult to pick food. Weird, I know.
The dishwasher is broken. The kitchen is a sty.
The foundation is broken. It will be repaired in a month.
The car is broken. I'm pretending it isn't and carrying on.
I miss Craig. I am mind-boggled that he is dead. Mind-boggled.
