There are slow arriving repercussions that I was not prepared for, of course. Mom gets the Death Sentence, we siblings take the Death Vigil in any way we can, I get the last day and the most gruesome in many ways, and one thinks whew! That's over. Moving on. But the physical toll is not one I did not anticipate. I don't feel sad or depressed, but I am really, really tired. Like I could sleep all day. I don't because life gets in the way, cars need to get smogged, groceries need to be purchased, bills need to be paid. But right now at 9:09 I am thinking that going to bed sounds perfect.
What is it that makes us so tired? I didn't do any physical activity other than standing at the bedside, every molecule of my body tense, my jaw clenched, my fists clenched, my entire being longing to be somewhere, anywhere else. I could hardly look at my mother and I wished I was deaf for a couple of hours, all I wanted to do was run away, but I stayed until my body was shaking. Then I had to leave.
Well, OK. I get it, sort of. But that was four days ago, I should be over it by now. Maybe tomorrow I will be. Cooper and I take long, long walks and that feels very good. I still can't read much of substance and I have watched very little on TV except old film noir stuff from the 1940's. For some reason the overly dramatic "Sit down and shut up and do what I tell you" dialogue works for me right now. Even "Law and Order" seemed too complicated.
Thanks for listening.
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