It's over. Today was the last time I'll ever see her. I still couldn't cry, I got teary eyed but not the sorrowful tears I wanted for her. Am I just so relieved by her passing that I can't be sad too? Too drugged with Zoloft that I just can't do real emotions anymore? Am I at peace with her death?
Maybe I'm just numb. I feel like I'm moving under water. I had that surreal moment when I'd just passed the cemetary and realized that she was there. In a box. I managed to choke down the rising anxiety that engulfed me when Pappa died. I just kept driving and clenching the wheel. Thinking in slow motion. Quieting the hysterical thoughts of going to get her. And how inhumane it is to leave someone you love in a box on a hillside.
Tonight, I collapsed in the chair in front of the fan - the a/c decided to kick it again on the hottest days so far - low 90s and 83 at 11:45pm. Frank did the dishes. I wanted desperately to do something like creative like needlepoint or cross-stitch, nothing with paper - I wanted to feel the fabrics.
Instead I took a cool shower. So much for not being depressing anymore.
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