I haven't been sleeping much. Up until 1 or 2 in the morning, and then struggling regain some semblance of consciousness by 7:30am. My body is betraying my needs, but my mind is restless and weary.
I wander from room to room, moving piles, but not really making progress. Bags of non-perishables from her apartment remain on the kitchen floor where they were put two weeks ago. My plants are wilting, dying, and still I can't bring myself into enough FOCUS to water them. My daughter managed to escape the house while I was in the bathroom and was found around the block and was returned by a kind neighbor. I am not functioning. It scares me.
Is this grief? It feels so empty. Maybe I am in denial about how much she meant. Or maybe the loss of his mother rewakened the aches of the loss of my mother. Or maybe I am just losing it. Can you lose marbles if you never had them?
Beloved fell asleep lying on my arm, our breath intermixed, our closeness somehow more intimate than anything you can imagine. I wanted to stay there forever. So why did I wake him? Why did I get up and come downstairs under the pretense of picking up and creating peace when instead I am wandering, lost and falling to pieces?
Driving home from the zoo today...yesterday..., we past a cemetery. Boy wanted to go in to look at "the beautiful stones." I'm struck both by his innocence and his sudden fascination with death. He wants me to take him to my mother's stone. Why am I reluctant? Why am I scared?
I should go upstairs, curl into Beloved's arms, let sleep cover me, renew me. If only I could shake the sense of impending chaos. It's lessened now that the storm has blown past, but I still dread sunrise...
Another day.
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