I was really unprepared for the physical effects of grief: the paralysis, fatigue, sleep problems, the I-guess-you-could-call-it malaise. My life is on bare minimum maintenance. A song on the radio, a saved note in the nightstand drawer, a polished bookend from the workshop in Mississippi; it takes so little to push me back down into the fog.
I sit and knit, watch violent TV, go to work, come home, occasionally bathe, etc. The loss of Dave and the upsidedown surreality of my life are still all I can see, even after three months. I've made socks, completed a sweater for the grandbaby Zack, and gotten medical attention for the geriatricat Smoke. Other than that, I've been in a holding pattern on autopilot. Oh yeah, somehow I got through the holidays, with a little help from my friends.
I tell myself that when my birthday comes next month that I'll begin to climb out of this rut. Watch this space.