I suppose it’s a pretty good thing I don’t have a gun.
I can’t feel anything for more than a split second. I would gladly shoot myself in the leg in order to create a feeling. Where did guttural, howling Mom go? She was here only a couple of weeks ago. She was a disaster.
I figured I would permanently become guttural, howling Mom after he died. I feel guilty for not howling. I can do it for about ten seconds and then I know I can’t let the howling get to my brain from my heart or my mind would be lost.
I am still a disaster, minus the noise. Minus the feeling.
I get a feeling when I walk in to a Walgreens, where that kid would always talk me in to buying something for him. And I realize, how many things we have been missing and how many things we will miss.
Pass a McDonald’s. “Mom!” I want a Happy Meal! Screech of tires. He got a lot of what he wanted.
When in doubt, do nothing. Don’t be reactive. At the same time, figure out the rest of your life. That takes action. I don’t live anywhere. I don’t have a forwarding address. I don’t have a job Maybe if I did I could break down. As it stands, I cant let my guard down. I think that’s the issue. I was “hospital Mom” for so long. I don’t know where to go from there. I want to go back there because that’s where I left him.