Thursday, August 22, 2013

A Grip And A Backbone

So much reminds me of Steve. I came out of the building I work in and smelled the summer air with a tinge of burning. It was so like a campfire. A question in a meeting about how our husband would react. I can't answer that can I? Even though he was breathing 33 days ago.

I used to be thought of as the lady whose husband is dying. But now... I'm the lady whose husband died. It's over. Over for them. For me it's just a new phase of hell.

Oh goodness, where is he to not help me with all this? I don't make these kinds of decisions. Not only was I not making decisions in our marriage, I wasn't even consulted. A vacation was planned. New windows were put in. A newly purchased car or truck would show up in the driveway. Why ask? What was I going to say, no?

I've got to get a grip. And a backbone. A grip and a backbone, a grip and a backbone. Or maybe just my bed.

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