The only thing I've learned like the song "I Grieve" says, in all the mourning I've done, and bearing the sadness, life does carry on, whether you choose to participate or not.
EArly this morning, I sat in the truck outside the hospital, and just waited and waited--for nothing, but I couldn't force myself to move. I was struck by the gravity of grief. Locked inside the body of a prisoner, who gave up all rights to hope and happiness.
Every day the same, you get up, you brush your teeth, you look at yourself in the mirror and brush your hair, the voices talk to you, your reflection gives speech, wants to be heard, you deal with the fatigue, you might drop the coffee cup again on your way to the coffee pot, you grab a blanket from the chair so you're not cold, and you do this every morning, and your life is predictable, and boring on a level--
Today you didn't cry, just like yesterday, and every day you read on the bedroom mirror,
Yeats
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