Dreams that I forget

It's now 10 months to the day you died. The 300th day passed just a little while ago. I wonder if there is any significance...
With notable exceptions, mostly I've managed to so tire myself with work and such, that when my head hits the pillow it is lights out. I scarcely remember dreaming of you in this past year-except for that one time. This past week, I seem to remember pleading with someone not to leave, and waking with my pillow wet... Maybe that's you, but why don't I remember

Tired and missing you

I fill the day as best I can with work and all, so I will not think of you
Now I am exhausted
And I still think of you
And I still miss you

If depression is a black dog, then grief is a lurking kraken

I had to write a chronology of his final weeks. It is now approaching 9 months since he died, I have been finding my escape in work and burying most of the sadness, grief and the loneliness. I miss him so much.

Writing about that time, now, I can still feel that soul wrenching fear that I hid from everyone in January, when he had stomach pains and we both pretended that we believed it was merely gastric. Fighting to believe that the chemo would work and then when they denied us that 3rd cycle of treatment, turning the anger against the medics for taking the cure away.

Someone I know, quite a few someones in fact, suffer depression. The black dog. So I can quite confidently say, I do not have this black dog on my back, or at least, it is not so large or so heavy to go on my back. Maybe a small one, in my pocket. I carry on quite satisfactorily most days.

Sometimes I even feel like, hey, the wound is healing, or healed even. Then... When I am not looking, I am ambushed by a long, stringy tentacle snapping up from the murky depths, and I am dragged downwards

Life goes on

I don't care if I do

Self pity

I have decided that I will allow myself 10 minutes of maudlin martyrdom each week. And we shall see if this reduces, or...

Undeserving self pity with what else is happening in the world to nations and to individuals who suffer -fear, pain, humiliation- before departing this plane permanently.

Yet life holds no joy for me.
If I could end it, causing no mess for others. I don't know which door I will pick.

I saw today a blog about grieving, loss, death of loved ones , that sort of thing. Yes I cried. For you, for me, for us. What is life anyway and what does death mean. Does a soul remain, return, even visit with those still living? How would it decide who to visit, and when? What about reincarnation ? I guess what I really want to know is, why have you not come to me in my dreams or out of it? I want to see you. I want us to talk. I want there to still be an us. Fool that I am.

Where are you

I miss you. I can't think about you and carry on. So I try not to remember you. Then I poke at the memory of you to see if it still hurts-and hey it does!

If I knew that you were still here. Somehow, somewhere. That you are waiting for me. Is it even possible ?

I know I must go on. And there are those little "lookee here" moments where I find a bubble of pleasant discovery. Like an ad break. Life is not all monotony. All the same living is, since you've gone, a duty, not a privilege.

Take me away. I don't care how. Let it be quick.

Bad day

Sitting here with a glass of red. It was a bad day today at all turns feeling your loss

I think it is a day for drowning sorrows

This keeps up I should talk to someone professional