August Already

To be fair, with me... there is no "time" any more. My friends tell me... "Can you believe how fast the summer has flown?" 

But... there has been no passage of time or breath since my son passed away .. I don't blog because I truly hate negativity. But it has been so long, I just felt like saying hello!

I do love Fall... I often feel she betrayed me to take away my son and my soul  that late November morning. But he loves Autumn, so it had to be the time for that one last look at this world.  I have been unwell. My arthritis and possibly mental state have limited me to one recliner. I sort of struggle up to take a bath, get some ice, wash a dish... feed my cat. Otherwise my friends and cousins, home health professionals, and girls I hire have supported me through the seasons 

I watch an incredible amount of TV. It distracts me from the breath-stealing grief. Only recently have I started sleeping longer than four hours total, snatched and stolen throughout each day. 

In other news, I sold my sweet house where I began Oatmeal and Whimsy... 25 acres that included the house, my grandparents' homeplace, some woods, the Shady Peanut Lane Bridge and a good slab of my heart bundled into a sale to a miraculously sweet neighbor couple just starting out. They are recreating an absolute dream of a home there. It was the right decision for all of us!

I currently am sequestered in the epicenter of three corn fields. I can't see the world, and I don't ever, ever leave my house... The world who wishes to chat comes to me, and I'm grateful!

Death brings such change directly to one's door and barges right on into one's personal space. I truly feel that both my son and I died that shocking morning after a perfect Thanksgiving Day for two. He joined our small family in Eternity, while I have been sentenced to scratch at the gates and hope for something I cannot recognize  or identify.

Callie keeps me honest. She runs to me if I cry or keen too loudly, crawling and sprawling out across my chest and sometimes putting her white paws over my mouth as if to say, "Shut up, Woman!"

So...  a melancholy note from your friend at Meadow Lane.  I miss my old life, my old self... and my people... I have almost always been a Christian, and I still talk to God although it is hard to believe He has any love for this barren daughter who has not responded well at all to her plight. That's another topic for another time perhaps. 

Enjoy your August!