Yikes

I'm doing the free fall thing today. Dam GRIEF. Stupid GRIEF. I want to embrace only the good stuff Rich left me. I don't want to hear any more about the discomfort of this fricken grief. 

Big dummy I am I decided to join a bereavement story circle. Shoot. Like I wasn't already feeling like I'm walking a tightrope. Ridiculous.

Now not only can I not feel my extremities, but I feel like my chest is a boxing match and I'm loosing.

I'd rather be strong like everyone thinks I am. I'd rather have the structure of the to do list to keep me from falling off the rope. 

What a farce. Just cause I didn't feel the way I felt when my sister died, my dad died, my neighbor died, I thought I wasn't 'doing' it right. 

On a lighter note. I was walking the dog the other day and after picking up poop a couple of times I developed a new theory... It is ALL Summer's fault. 

You've heard the joke...

A Catholic priest, a Protestant minister, and a Jewish rabbi are walking down a street in New York City debating the beginnings of life. The priest says, "Life begins with conception."

"No," the minister replies, "life begins with birth."

"You're both wrong," retorts the rabbi. "Life begins when the kids leave home and the dog dies!"

Telling you, it's all Summers fault. The awesome thing about a conversation with a dog is that they neither agree nor disagree. Eventually her logic won out. 

After all, after Cassidy died a year and a half before, I had decided NOT to get another dog. I'm the one that drove to the pound to just look, called Rich, and we both decided to take her home almost ten years ago.

Wise words are: do not judge, it limits observation.