I still feel fractured.
I'm sure I will for a long time. I am not crying as much. Simply at the most inopportune times, like 30 minutes before giving an interview for a local news station.
I am watching all of my precious flowers fade. Ironically at the time they simply made me realize what I'd lost, now I don't want them gone. I was awake in the middle of the night, pretty sure I slept too much yesterday, but at 1 am, I decided to adult.
At some point today, I am going to find a spot to put the planters that were sent to me in the windows. I will just have to do some rearranging. I am terrified of killing the beautiful tropical ones. I am not the greatest at remembering things like water. And when I do, I might put too much. We'll see. The past few years living things have not wanted to be part of my world. All attempts at container gardening have failed... FYI...
When I gave up on sleeping, instead of lying there dreading that 5 am Sunday morning would come, I got up. I'm still not a fan of Sunday morning anymore, I hate that it signifies another week has passed, while trying to celebrate that he's whole and in glory. Yes I know that day will come, I am just not good at waiting.
In an effort to distract myself, I started laundry, folded dry laundry, washed dishes and swept floors. Anything that I could do quietly while Hubs slept. I even started piecing together an order for soap making supplies. I've been enjoying it again lately, and felt a strong need to make soap. I am going to look through my bins and see what supplies I still have today. I am also considering making my own bath bombs. They are my current obsession - and I love my garden tub - what I don't like are the prices for the fabulous bombs at LUSH. I'm sure I can make my own and save a huge amount of money.
The battle outside that early spring and late winter are waging is sort of a perfect reflection of how I feel inside. The delicate hope for the future can be seen in the beautiful bright green mosses and buds on the honeysuckle branches. They are fighting for their right to exist. The buds on the Bradbury Pear tree out front are bright red. They want to be seen. And the birds are chirping and singing, calling for mates, ready to bask in the warmth of the coming season with the family they will soon start. The fat little squirrels are starting to scavenge the trees for food.
But winter is still a bitter old shrew, she isn't ready to give up. The rain drops are just this side of being snow and ice. The temperatures are still being held cold by those sharp, biting winds that she keeps sending over us. The same winds that are tearing those sweet buds from their branches and snapping those branches from their trees. Winter is fighting back, she isn't ready to yield.
I feel that way inside. My grief and anger are not ready to subside. I wasn't ready to lose my Dad, I am not all together sure it was God's plan, until the end. I am bitter and cold inside. I want to lash out at those I feel are responsible, and yet feel inadequate to do so. I feel like I've been robbed and it makes me angry.
And at the same time, every time I see a cardinal, or a memory long forgotten sneaks in to melt the ice, I feel my Dad's presence. When I am lacking the strength that I need to move forward even a bit, I hear his voice. I feel normal, or at least my new normal, sneaking in. I wrap myself up in the love I have for him and that I know he had/has for me and I feel the thawing starting. I'm finding a bit more energy for normal. A few less overwhelming moments. Spring will come.
In fact I am feeling the urge to adult today. To put on some music and tackle life. Not all of it at once, but definitely some of it.