[Originally posted on Bubblews March 5, 2014]
I wake up depressed every morning. If you have read many of my posts, you probably know that there are reasons for me to feel depressed. That's part of why I don't write more than one post per day on average. Sometimes it takes all day for me to start to feel good enough to put together a coherent piece of writing. Right now it is 11:37 AM and I am struggling to write this, as I am still very much in that dark place. I could've just waited to write like I usually do, but I'm trying something different right now in this moment - writing from the darkness and deep sadness and despair. Tears spring up now and I can't see the words I type.
It has gotten even worse this week because my ex-husband wants to sell the house where I live, the house where we (mostly I) raised our children. The last 20 years of Caety's life were in this house. Her pink-walled bedroom is here, left almost exactly the same as it was the day she went into the hospital never to come home again. I sit here typing at the kitchen table, directly across from the chair where she sat and ate and took hundreds of pills and remedies every day. The daybed in the family room calls up memories of her lying there asking me for a back rub to ease her pain. When I look out at the backyard, I can still see her sitting there on the hill on a blanket, reading a book or gazing at the sky or a rabbit, feeling moments of peace and joy in nature. I miss her so much. ♥
Photos of our backyard taken by Caety, May 2012, six months before she died. From her Facebook album titled "My Lovely Garden."
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