The last is the hardest. I'm alone and quiet most in my car. But it's not a safe place, especially when I'm driving. Nor is it a safe place when I'm parked. I'm often alone in the car waiting to pick up Libby. It's quiet in the office, but I can't let myself cry in such a public place. At home, I'm seldom alone. This is a rare exception, I'm home and alone.
The one year mark passed. I'm glad I spent it at home, quietly. I just want to be with Katie, however I can. Alone wih my thoughts and her spirit soothes me as well as makes me sad.
Weirdly, I want to go camping alone. I want to curl up in my sleeping bag and just be for a while. I actually miss my sleeping bag. If I was home alone at night, I think I'd just sleep in it on my bed. I like the way it curls around me.
I wish Libby liked camping; she's the one person I know that I'd like to camp with. We have a sense of quiet together. In the same room, but doing different quiet activities.
I need to read my book for book club. I'm a bit afraid of it. I don't want to cry. I don't know the answer. Book club is tomorrow. I've had the book for two months now.
I wonder what's wrong with me, then I remember. It's now my DNA. It's in my cells. It's such a part of me that I don't know where I stop and it begins. I have very little sense of who I was before.
I'm a grieving mother. I grieve for myself and for every other grieving mother.
