Margm

Kay, we have a lot of medically associated members of our "kith and kin" and the story you told on "Jim" has happened so much. My cousin, who is a year older than I am) gave up his driver's license, sold his camp on the bass lake in Texas and settled in his chair waiting for the grim reaper. His mom and dad passed away very close to each other in the nursing home with Alzheimer's. So, this magnificent specimen of the elder generation gave up all of his efforts for exercise. Thankfully, his daughter is a nurse practitioner, and got him to the doc. So, he had a quadruple bypass and now I'll bet he wishes he had his driver's license back. He called me and was wanting to get "the girls" together again. We are all that is left of our many cousins. One of those "girls" took her 80-year-old husband (her son works for the cardiology floor at a hospital), and he had an aortic valve graft and is up, eating lots more (he had quit), and has a new lease on life. I'm thinking my son might need a closer follow-up. He is now working on the VA disabled worker's program and he had a bunch of aches and pains to work out of an unused body, but is feeling so much better about himself. Sometimes, we have to have a shove to make us get help.

My mom did not get "mean" until about 12 years into the marriage. She had a memory that could quote Shakespeare plays, poets, Joyce Kilmer, (I thought Alfred Lord Tennyson's verses came from the Bible), all the fairy tales and I have found them on Google, even the "I want my toe" one. Made me not eat turnip greens for years. (Southern staple) mixed with poke salad (sallet), which is poisonous. I guess you have to fix it just right, never killed us. Anyhow, this was before TV and my mom could tell so many fairy tales, read me so many children's books, and gave me the most exquisite imagination a kid could have. I had my own crawfish pond. I had plum thickets on my granddaddy's land and one year, inside the little clearings in the thickets a bed of violets was covering the ground. A kid is not afraid of ticks or snakes so that was a beautiful bed for a kid to play on. When Billy left, all the magic left too. I don't think I will ever get it back, but I have enough country memories to last a lifetime. Going up highway 159 for about 40 miles there are no towns, some stop signs crossing highways, but this year I saw all the crab apple trees white/pink blooms, the pear trees white flowers and the whole road, all the way up on both sides is scattered with daffodils (and I'm sure that is not the proper name for all of them), but the tulip trees are losing their petals, next the wisteria will be hanging from all the trees, mixed in with the white ones are the lilac colored and purple ones, hanging like moss from the trees. It took me a long time to see this beauty after Billy left, and I would love them even more if he was with me. I've come a long way, but will never out live the sadness, in spite of the beauty. I'm sorry Gin. I just read about your son. Please let us know when you hear something. We never quit worrying about our children.

I braved it through another box and after this one put it down. I told my son that Billy was just the cutest tall fellow. He was 6'2" and I was 5'2" (at one time), but said I was shorter now, but Billy was a lot shorter and compact too. I said, well, I guess that is not funny. Scott said, it kind of is and Daddy would have laughed. I think you call that Gallow's humor. This was in 1980, forty years ago. I miss us. I think we always looked like "Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean, so between them both, they licked the platter clean." (I know that was one of my mom's songs.

What alarms me is when they try to blame it on politics. I can blame a lot of things, but I don't think politics are behind this. Does anyone remember (no, none of us listened to it, it was 1938, for goodness sake), but he, (Orson Wells), did a radio show that sounded like an announcement that we had been invaded by aliens, (I think). It was called "War of the Worlds" and was broadcast as a radio show. Really, when a panic is started, it is hard to calm it down. I do not know about this coronavirus scare, but I do know there used to be sickness that spread everywhere. My granddaddy lived the life of a hobo (he was only just starting his teens when his mom died from accidental gunshot). He rode the rails as a hobo. When he got to Shreveport they would not let him off the boxcar because of the yellow fever epidemic. Many are buried in an old cemetery off one of the main roads (highway 80, I think), and one of our historians said if a grave were to be opened, the yellow fever would still live. In the west, we visited a graveyard in an old west town way up in the mountains. I could not believe how many had a death year of 1919,, the year my dad was born. While this coronavirus is hitting the young sickly children and us old sickly adults (don't worry, I'm just to damn mean), the 1918-1919 epidemic killed about 50 million people and hit the young adults the hardest. I love history, but my medical and my religious ideas kind of fight each other if I think too deep. Supposedly keeping your hands clean, and mine look like an Egyptian mummy's untaped hands already. I have every lotion to correct things (they lie), Stay inside as much as possible. I did find out that hypochondria is a mental illness that is the hardest to treat. The problem is, doctors don't take you serious. And, you have to think of that person who had written on the tombstone "See, I told you I was sick." I do have some congestion that is new, oh well, at my age it could be allergy with spring heavy on us in the south, congestive heart failure, or just anything. No fever. I don't hear the footsteps behind me today, they are off visiting nice people. No fear today. Unusual.

I make a grocery list and cannot read it. My "1 and 9" have a little tiny circle on the end, and a straight line has many loops. People do not get angry. I tell them and they help me. Honestly, my signature is prettier than any doctor I ever worked for. One doctor signed his name with a little sperm, tail and all. I always thought of him as a Dick (Nixon). I added the Nixon so it would not be too harsh on sensitive people.

I love this Kay. I used to worry so much when they were all so little, now I worry because they are all so old. I think I just like to worry. Probably the only thing I excel with, mostly in life.

One good thing I didn't report. My grandson has been in rehab for a long time we did not know about. Someone saw his many jail visits were cries for help. He is a beautiful young man, and they are treating him for schizoaffective disorder. He is responding to these medications. There was life for his dad after drugs, can hope and pray there will be life for him. I have a bag he made me, a canvas bag he painted with a large red rose. He wrote on it with black paint "Mamaw: The love of a grandmother is like no other." They sent him to us in the 11th grade. He went to a small school and won an art medal. He is so talented. Somehow he got lost again. And then he was in California again. Never any money. Hitching rides. He is so handsome, girls would stop and he would have a home for a few days and then he would disappear again. He is in his 30's now. I can only hope and pray. This is the best news we have received in probably close to 15-20 years. Living on the streets, he had to have some luck from someone. I seem to remember written somewhere (not looking it up) that God protects children and fools. I am still here, so part of that is correct. My son and grandson, and my daughter are here, so protection was provided by a higher power than myself.

Happy Birthday Sparky. I hope you have a long and feel-good life for my friend Gin.

Only a few on my dad's side has escaped this. My granddaddy died (I hate that word) on my 13th birthday. My other grandfather only five months before. My granddaddy was 56, an "old man." One of my bosses at the hospital, he was one of the department leaders, a neurology doctor for so many years assured me I did not have Parkinson's. It was not inherited he said. Granddaddy's brother had it at the same time he did. As a little girl we would pass by our only bar on Main street (town of only about 5,000 at it's biggest, then the mill left, so did the people). My granddaddy and his brother would be talking in their bent over stance, (in front of the bar, probably their only medicine); I knew all the symptoms, etc., when I worked at the hospital. Not inherited. I retired from that hospital in 1997. In that year they found faulty genes could be passed to family members by their parents. Not all the time. My 2nd cousin has it, she was the niece of both of these men. Mine is not Parkinson's, and I won't undergo a battery of tests to find out what. My aunt had my tremor, my dad did also, but I had it youngest of any of them. My other aunt will not see visitors. They do not call her's Parkinson's, but she did not develop it until her 70's. My kids do not have it, but I passed down enough bad genes to make up for it. Okay, enough neurologic word salad. At least it does not hurt at all where the cancer cure hurts enough places to make up for it. You know, in this apartment house we are next door to a house with a huge dog that is kept inside a very large fenced in (lumber side to side, cannot see the dog), but he barks night and day. The man upstairs plays video games loudly. I've gotten to where I do not hear them unless I concentrate on them. There is a huge field behind the apartments. Deer live in that field. The manager is a "cat lady" and we have cats that multiply like rabbits and then somehow they disappear. I thought I saw a shadow pass in the hall. Will keep it to myself. No one can get in. Billy did not believe in the supernatural. I did enough to be afraid at times he would laugh at. I think there are so many things that are, things we don't understand, like the shaking, it just is. We accept life. And yet, I am apprehensive of the jealousy I feel for my long ago friend following his life long love after three months. I feel he is already with her. I am happy for them.

Gwen, it is an inherited thing in my family. Believe it or not, mine started at puberty. Only slight tremor, but enough of one if I slow danced with a boy he thought he had me "excited" so I quit the slow dancing. Managed to keep from getting up in front of a crowd, but being a deacon's daughter, only one in three deacons, it came on me to give "parts" at local churches in our Missionary Baptist group. One time I palmed it off on someone and they had to leave in the middle of the services, handed me the paper, I got in the pulpit, read shakily a few lines and then just broke down crying. Of course no one understood, but my dad. He had the shaking too and he believed the only way to get out of it was to keep doing it. I managed to evade this. As I have gotten older it has gotten worse.. Especially after the tummy rupture.. Now my chin will shake sometimes. I hate that. Can you believe I worked for the neurology department a number of years. They just said it was inherited, don't worry about it. OoooohKaaay. The Xanax helps if I have to write something. There is one drug that helps, it is propranolol, but it also causes depression. I don't need that. They have something new that they use sound waves for. Sometimes I think I will look into it, other times I think "just drive this old vehicle until the wheels fall off" and that is probably what I will do. I drop things with my left hand more than my right. I cannot hear those footsteps behind me as loud today as I can sometimes.

I have problems with my shaking hands and the little "keyboard." I actually bought a 10 incher with an added keyboard, like a smaller laptop. (I cannot use a laptop). My fingers shake on this keyboard of the PC, cannot handle the others. Might get double, triple letters. But, I use my Kindle like I would an I-pad. I have all the apps and enjoy it very much. The 10 inch one made all the difference. Billy "stole" Brianna's smaller Kindles to read his book. He would hang on to them too. Brianna thought it was cute. Then she took over my 10 inch, so I got another one. I have all Billy's Kindles by his urn., retired naturally. That 10 inch screen helps my eyes. I get on anything I get on this PC with, just cannot type correctly with my trembling fingers.

In my late 30's I was diagnosed with a rare, double cancer heading toward each other. (Followed up constantly and was told they must have been false negatives). (You think?) Sent me next day to MD Anderson. I had been typing GYN everything, operations, discharge, admission, consults. There were about 6-9 "girls" at any given time. If there was a rare disease that came in, at least one of us had the symptoms. Ever so often we would get a doctor telling the patient to do the Kegel exercises so whoever was typing that word would yell out "KEGEL" and we would all do our exercises while sitting in our chairs. Not pertaining to my problem, but I guess it did strengthen pelvic floor some. Anyhow, having cancer, typing about it every day did drive me crazier than I already was. Typing women coming in in their final stages of "my" cancer kept me "cancer conscious" the rest of my life till now. One woman's leg swelled up. My shrink at that time was a 3rd year resident and I told him one of my legs was getting bigger. His answer "It is sad God did not make each part of our body the same size" so I knew he did not sympathize with me. But, over all the next years I had many scares. Poor Billy, the doc's were telling me I was a cure, and I was thinking, "yeah, but what do you know!!??" I told Billy once a cancer cured person that types it every day is never cured, and he agreed with me (sort of in a sarcastic way). And I was right, the cure nearly killed me 32 years later. An acquaintance of mine passed away November 20th. Her husband left February 29th. I don't know the reasons, his family will miss them, but somehow something I cannot say out loud "He is with her now, he is not suffering, only three months later he caught up with her."

One day I will have the "bone cold" feeling cold. I hate fuzzy blankets and will even use them with the comforter with a pair of long socks. By noon the next day temperature in the apartment is up to mid 70's without any thing running. I can turn the A/C and heat on off. Then we have rain/cold. Next day need to run the A/C in the car. I have windows and screens but have well clipped bushes outside my windows that if I open them, ants will come in. They keep the apartments sprayed every three months but the ants crawl in from the bushes. But, I do not have to worry about the snow and ice we had at higher elevations 175 miles up the road. At my age, I have a deep fear of falling. Heck, at my age I have a deep fear of living and/or dying.

I retired from the hospital that kept Billy waiting in the ER until he had no way out but to leave physically his body behind. I have spent four years planning on writing them a letter. They allowed me to give him his morphine pills. So much I should have done. That very hospital, the year before, had saved my life from a very complicated and deadly illness. I had gratitude for them then. Billy was leaving me and I was in total and complete denial. I was stronger than God. I was not going to let him leave. God showed me who was boss and I have been a whimpering pile of goo ever since Billy left me. I had lost my grandparents, I had lost my dad, my mom was alive in body but not mind, and that left the next year. Total denial would not accept Billy was leaving me. I do not go back to that city. I have not written my letter to the CEO, that might have helped some people. How many times can you say "If I had only did this" and you can fill in what you want to fill in. Like a rapist, bad things will happen to other people if you do not report it. The ER was the rapist and I did not report it. I hope things have changed, but if they have not then more people will die, either sooner or later. Billy's course had only one ending, and I would not accept it. Not sure I have accepted it yet. My mom had to wait five hours in the ER in this little town. My sister took her home without being seen. I knew someone who knew the CEO. I called him. I wrote a letter also. You can walk into this ER and you are immediately seen, put into a cubicle and checked on by a variety of clinicians, all tests are done as soon as you are seen, and never a wait. I did hear one woman going to sue them because they did not give her the opiates she came in for. I do not like to send death certificates, do not like to look at pictures, do not like to open boxes. I do, however, have a corner of the room dedicated to the things he loved, his hats hung up along with the wooden sign I found, a big one in plain writing, black and white, "A TRUE LOVE STORY NEVER ENDS" along with his "toys" and his beautiful wooden urn with one of his notes stuck to the side "Love you, be back by noon" and I think he must have gone fishing then. I also have a small fiberoptic Christmas tree, small, and a beautiful wooden, glass covered cabinet lined with red velvet, holding all his calls (quail, duck, varmint, crow) and they are all polished wood, that he collected. Of course I sleep with his clothes stuffed king size pillow sham. This is all I can do, for now. But I do avoid, avoid, and avoid some more.

Gwen, so proud of you for visiting the nursing home. My ex-daughter-in-law told us not to send my grandson money. But, he is in rehab and a half-way house (we hear) and only hope he can get straight. The woman that has his child, she is a sweetheart, and she will let him see her again, if he gets himself straight first. You are progressing, and some might seem backward, but you my girl, you are not giving up, no matter what they throw at you. I admire you my friend. It was never promised to be easy, but we all are too weak to keep moving those big detour signs and treading the impossible. But you are doing it. I notice I said "us" again. I don't think I will ever stop............don't want to.

Happy for you Kevin. I have two great grandchildren I have never seen. They live on different coasts, I live in the center.. When I saw the picture of my first great granddaughters Billy was still alive and I cried, her name is Charisma. She is now 16 and I've still never seen her. My grandson has a daughter somewhere in California and because of circumstances, I have never seen anything but pictures. The two below, the oldest is Charisma and she is now 16. The other is Ireland, and I have seen her. She likes to throw tantrums. Billy would have loved them so much. He never saw any of them. I am happy you are so close to your family and Atlas I will always remember. I love the name..

Well, I guess we all have a purpose of some sort and yours is a most noble one. You have your own place that you want to continue visiting, and I would imagine an oxygen tank is a thing that no one would ever notice in your help of people that need your help. After 27-30 years of doing this, I would think your most familiar thing would be your volunteering. And, that is something that is needed and I am sure, something that is looked forward to by many residents. My daughter worked as a nurse with the older people (she had her last immuunotherapy IV this morning.) Somehow or other, she manages to be a part of helping take care of those less fortunate than her. I think they help a person (my daughter, I'm speaking of) see people in worse condition than she is and she is there to help. One woman called her in the middle of the night (my daughter was awake) to fix her TV changer. These little things are huge mountains to some of us older people. We have cable, a lot of TV channels, and I've learned how to use Netflix. Do not know how to use the Amazon Fire thingy, but do know how to use my Kindle, do not know how to use Hulu yet, but we always need someone to do the monstrous things that are mountains to us old folks and little bumps (no, not even bumps) by the younger person. So, for your sake, and also for your residents in the nursing home you visit, I wish for you a speedy recovery. I know you do and I know you are missed. After this length of time away, you have to remember what Robert Frost said. I repeat it so often. There is some reason I am still here. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. And, I remember my childhood, sometimes even more than my marriage: “Friends are the pillars on your porch. Sometimes they hold you up, sometimes they lean on you, and sometimes it's just enough to know that they are standing by." Anonymous As a child we always had a porch, one with a swing on it. Neighbors would come right on up. Cannot do that anymore.. You have to be careful of the double barrel shotgun behind the door. I miss my old country childhood. When I drove by the house once, the swing was still there. I remembered it being huge. It was a tiny house with a tiny porch. My mind and imagination were the largest part of that memory.

Gwen, there are some days I think I could be a hermit quite happily. Then there are some days I do not know how I feel at all and keep paper towels by my chair so I can cry at commercials. Billy was so laid back, so slow moving, I mentioned (it had to be just yesterday) that he would be the last of all of us to "go" because he just would not leave. And then, he left so fast I sometimes think he is still here. I'm sorry you have so many things that slow you down, I know you want freedom like with Steve and sharing feelings and life. I know you want to live without constant pain and fear. My sister took care of our Alzheimer's ridden mom. She is nine years younger than me. She has no one but me. I feel sorry for anyone who has no one but me. She thinks she will not have the Alzheimer's because she has COPD and is chain smoking in attempt to not live long enough to have the Alzheimer's. I know what she is doing, but cannot stop her. She had the cataract surgery and before the outside door was closed had lit up a cigarette, protective glasses off, with last warning to keep wind and dust out of eye. I told her to put her glasses on and she said she had to have it for her nerves, just like I have to have my Xanax. I'm allowed two Xanax a day, I take one at night (unless I have to be somewhere that my hands need to be more steady.) I am a hermit-type because of the necessity to find bathrooms on fast notice. I would imagine you understand both of us. George, you don't mention it much, but I think you lost your dad recently also. That with your heart scare and having to keep working, which you probably enjoy, I would imagine your losing your dad would make all things new. I'm sorry about that. I lost Mama less than a year after Billy left, but we had really lost her years before. I think some of the feelings I need to let go of, they would make life just hit me in the face. Sometimes I dodge things and just say "I forget." They accept that as an answer (my family). I'm sure if we all took better care of ourselves, if we went to the gym and did minor things, if we ate correctly all the time, maybe we might feel better (nah, that's a big lie, I would feel worse.) I think the thing is, we sincerely care for all of us anonymous friends. I know I do.

I still use that term, but "jumping" out of bed is hardly what I do. (At 77, I doubt if that is really what any of us do.) I do manage to crawl around until I grab a lid of one of the boxes I have piled in my room, pull myself up. Know that standing is going to hurt like hell, do a few of my own calisthenics, and manage to slip my feet in the slippers. I think the radiation honeycombed my hip bones. But, I had trouble with this back when Billy was with me also. Legs hurt, I wear diabetic socks that pull up to my knees, I am not limber enough to put on the compression hose. Never have understood them anyhow. I have had many, many pairs of them, they always manage to put a crease at my ankles and sorta cut off blood supply, so these diabetic socks (I am not diabetic) compress just a small bit, any creases do not stop blood supply and are so soft I will sleep in them when my feet are "bone cold" and that does happen. I sleep on probably six pillows (scattered around) (along with my Billy clothes stuffed pillow), but keep it to the side. Billy slept on a pancake pillow. Mine are large and fluffy. I almost sleep sitting up. I like that. And, these are not the "golden years" promised (maybe not promised, but the name they use.) Mine are as rusty as an old iron faucet. So far I can control the faucet almost to the point that when it tells me to "go" then I do not need to forget it. Oh, who can forget the shout that says "go right now." I cannot compare my aches and pains to yours because they have been going on for so long, I just know about them. My cousins and I, when we email now, one or the other has been in the hospital with some bone surgery (my sweet cousin inherited her grandmother's crippling arthritis, and she has about eight young grandchildren she runs to the bus stop and keeps until the parents get home, (she started children later than I did and has very young grandchildren). Her husband just had aortic valve replacement and is so much better at 80 than he has been for a few years. My other cousin, (lots of cousins) is a year older. They cannot figure out why she keeps having the painful kidney stones and UTI's. (Even with two doctor sons that have urology and nephrology friends.) Her husband has Parkinson's disease and the arthritis, like his dad, that makes life very painful, and a pacemaker. They use good batteries I guess because the gardener follows him around to pick him up when he falls in these Michigan winters. He falls a lot. Had to get him a bed close to the floor. They are all age 77 to age 81. No golden years, only rust years. I know you would not be happy with someone living with you, if by some miracle of fate, some old friend of Steve's, someone that would pick up after themselves, etc. Oh forget that, I am a slob and do not think anyone but Brianna could live with me. My heart is with you my friend. My doc.........wait, I don't have one except when I want my Xanax refilled. They still do that in my old town I lived in with Billy. The rest of them, even with my essential tremor, they would not keep me supplied with Xanax. I told Heather (my nurse practitioner) that I never abuse a prescription and she said, "oh we know that." So, I am sure mine is monitored. What the hell, quantity of life or quality of life. I told them I was not going to stop them. I am so used to them now that it is more stubbornness that makes me get them than anything, oh that and I like to sleep at night. Fixing to have my only cup of coffee, and if I drink an Ensure (I do like those things), I forget about my coffee, the last ritual Billy and I shared. I did find my psychiatrist very useful many years ago, but she is retired now. With a diagnosis of chronic depression, kind of like the pain, it becomes a worrisome thing that I tried to talk to two different denomination pastors, but I got so tired of telling my life to these people I am paying to listen, and if they gave me a med, it would kill me. So, you all are stuck with my word salads, for awhile. I find I need my Xanax at night. Why is it we are so fearful of night time? I read a lot (concentration comes and goes), but the fear of sleep will always be there and that is probably a fear of not waking up, which I would only think I don't want my granddaughter to find me that way.

I have always said that you cannot minister to people unless your feet have been raked through the coals. Your's have Kieron, and I think this makes you an exceptional caregiver. You understand in the only way that can offer pure empathy and not just sympathy and knowledge from a book. Angels like you will get your wings someday. Thank you.

Gwen, I pulled up a map of Seattle. I learned to love the west, but never got any further than Northern California and then headed southeast back to the desert country. (and mountains). I think I would be very confused with all the islands around you. It has got to be a humid as it is in the south. Humidity does not help my sister's COPD. And, she has an upstairs apartment (her choice). She said climbing stairs was one thing they had her do in rehab. She chain smokes thinking the COPD will possibly keep her from having Alzheimer's, or rather using it as a quicker exit than Mama took. Mama smoked, but she could make a pack last her two days. They are so expensive here in Louisiana. I worry, but I worry about my kids, my grandkids, and I guess that way I don't worry about me. Nothing they can do for me and chronic depression has followed me around since my teen years, so if you can get used to such a thing, I guess I am acclimated to worrying, though that was one thing that aggravated Billy. He does not have to worry with it anymore though. Hang in there my friend, obviously we are here for some reason. Heart with you, as usual.

Don't be. I understand people being against it, but I think some states allow it. I saw Billy's dad and my dad die with pressure sores all over the bottom of my dad's feet from digging in because if they gave him enough morphine to kill the pain it would kill him. Obviously not really up for discussion. Just like some other things, I will talk about it and then I will climb up on the fence and straddle it and do not have an opinion, or do not know my opinion. Okay, I completed that circle. I didn't say anything. Love you Gwen, I hope things get better and better.

I just keep everything in the big plastic buckets with the lock tops. My bedroom has the California king sized bed that is probably 30 years old now. Hey, it's just getting broke in. I check ever so often for bed bugs, none found. There is room for me to walk to closet, one side of bed. (I took the small bedroom with bath across hall). Bri has her an apartment. I feel almost like being in my RV. Sometimes I look at a box, try to pick it up, too heavy. No heart to look in it. I have everything we need put out. It has been four years, four months, three days, about 15 hours since he left. I'm just not ready. If it seemed "like yesterday" after 18-19 years for my grandmother, my kids will have all the things in boxes. My lifelong friend is dying anytime now. She took care of all her family, even after they had left home. She stayed in debt "giving" until her 82 pound little body is filling up with fluid moment by moment, draining constantly. Given approximately two months without treatment, cannot do treatment, she cannot eat, she has stomach cancer. She was taking care of her older brother who quit his treatments for two kinds of cancers. She was dragging herself to her shop every day until she couldn't, and I don't want her to hurt anymore. She will get to be with her husband who left over 20 years ago and as beautiful as she was, she never dated again. Just heard from her daughter who is taking care of her. I just don't want her hurting. Did I tell you on my new washer and dryer nowhere is written the word "normal." That word never entered my life.

And you all know what my little country grandmother said when they said she was certainly used to my grandfather being gone by now (18 years), might have been 19, and Grandma said in "her book" that to her it seemed like yesterday. I don't think grief has an expiration date, unless it is when we ourselves expire.

I do, and even fuss with (or at) him often. I actually think he hears me. I also think it is like Brianna says, he knows if he lets me know he is with me in any way it would scare me to death and he does not want to scare me. And like C.S. Lewis said, “Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” I know in what paragraph form he said it, but the words I choose to believe.