there’s a jar of dip in the pantry that Chris and I bought at an HEB together, i feel I’ll keep it unopened forever
the hormones of my menses have left me feeling unraveled the last few days
I’m crying openly today and Magnus tells me it’s not ok to cry and that I don’t miss daddy, basically the opposite of what I tell him. I dry my tears, blow my nose, and tell him that it is ok to cry and that I do miss daddy. He tells me he doesn’t miss him, and that sometimes he does miss him and sometimes he doesn’t. I say that’s ok and that it’s also ok that I cry when I miss daddy. He asks me what would happen if I got sick and if I would die like daddy and I tell him that I don’t have leukemia and I’m not going to get sick from it and die like daddy did.
I want to crawl inside my grief today, crawl into bed and wail and wail and wail and sleep. I’ve suddenly lost my focus on the day and I don’t care about emptying the dishwasher, about picking up the clutter, about about about I don’t know, my mind is trailing off.
I checked out Joyce Carol Oates’ book “A Widow’s Story” and skimmed it last night. I think it’s also left me feeling a bit undone, her words that cut so cleanly thru the layers and leave me exposed and lost, so lost. It’s a large book, and it was a long marriage, over 40 years; I don’t know if I can read it quite yet.
ad astra per aspera 