...are the reason why I moved here. I can wake up, walk outside in my jammies (no worries, it's a high fence) and sit for awhile. I need to remind myself of that...often. Especially on days when the overwhelming urge to chuck it all and run again sets in. For I have been contemplating chucking. But I can't. I will do this. I must.
Whoever said that, in many ways, the second year is harder than the first was right. My absence here is indicative of a general absence I had for life...save for James, and his wellbeing. There was a gradual backslide again. A getting up, but not getting dressed. Writing the bills, doing the laundry (sort of), answering the phone (sometimes), getting together with friends (again, sometimes). The crushing shock of not seeing him walk through the door eased. The numbing, trudging, drudgery of the reality of a life without him set in. I handled it. Not well.
A positive is that I see healing in James. Gone are the mornings spent begging for a day off of school. While he still does not like school too much, he grudgingly goes along with the plan. He has friends. He has plans. He is a bright spot. He will be okay. This, I make sure of.
I am still trying to find ways to tether myself. I have temporary tethers: mainly the raising of James. He will grow up and he will be strong, and I will be proud to see him walk on to his future. And then what? This is what I push into the pantry and close the door on. Waiting to boil it up on another day.
We have had many visitors in the last year. As joyous as it is to see them walk through our door, the pain of them leaving sometimes leaves me breathless. Tiny little deaths strung along through the months.
Well Golly, I apologize for the morbidity of this entry. But the sun is shining, a new day has begun and I am still trying. I really am.