I’ve been dreading posting again — even though most everyone who reads this blog knows what’s happened since my last post.
It’s been over a month since my mother-in-law died…almost 2-1/2 months since my mom died. In that time, I’ve written countless posts in my head. Thought about the meaningful things I wanted to talk about. In thoughtful, insightful ways.
But most days it’s all I can do to sit in front of the computer and do my job, let alone be meaningful and insightful. My clients were great…they gave me time and space. But now they need my time and attention.
Everything needs my time and attention.
The house and its numerous projects. (Is cleaning a project? It feels like one now.) The book I’ve been reading for months. The books I can’t even remember the names of waiting on my Kindle. The clothes and clutter I’ve been meaning to donate. The groceries I haven’t bought. The exercise I haven’t done. My mother’s house. My mother’s house. My mother’s house. And the stuff. All that stuff. So much stuff.
The yard has fared better, a perk of being the most therapeutic to-do on the list. The spring mulching — five or six truckloads? — finished just tonight. Hot, sweaty, satisfying work. Sometimes, when I’m not looking at what still needs to be done or redone, not mentally trimming or pulling or adding or moving, the garden takes my breath away. A bright spot in an otherwise bleak time.
I’ll take it. And be grateful. And hope that things will slowly return to normal. New normal I mean. Whatever that turns out to be.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.
~ William Shakespeare
Writing by Ear 