My home, my home...

Well I'm back in my home and just as I imagined the days are flying by! I've been so busy catching up with people and getting little errands done that the time is moving at a fast clip. The thought that it's already Sunday and I only have a few more days here is weighing heavily on my shoulders.

This could not be a more tortuous situation. I will have to give up this place eventually and I don't know that I'll ever be able to recreate it again! It's comfortable and happy and of all the places I've ever lived...it feels like it's mine!! My home, my home!!!

I'm starting my day, sittig here whistling along to my favorite radio show, Acoustic Sunrise. My fuzzy slippers are on my feet and I've started a fire in the fireplace. It puts off just enough warmth to get rid of the misty chill of morning. I'm here, just me and my cup of coffee. The only thing missing is Kenny sitting next to me contemplating the day. It's the little things that make this widow's world so lonely...

Life is sure puzzling. And, I have to admit my friends and neighbors here tug at my heart everytime I come back. And...I get the same thing up North as well, friends who beg me to stay. So why can't I just live in two places? Isn't there some way that could all work out?

I'm thankful that I have been blessed to be up North, surrounded by my family and life long friends. It has sure helped me work my way through my grief. But it's also added a significant stress and complication to my life that's hard to describe. I've been carrying this burden with me...just below the surface, month after month. It's one of those decisions that I've been pushing off...because it's been too hard to face. But...I know I've reached the turning point and I am finally going to have to get moving and get my life settled!!

The day I got here, I opened the door to Kenny's closet...spent a pausing moment looking around from shelf to rack. Then simply closed the door. Still after a year and a half, I can't face the thought of going through it and getting rid of his things. I know that probably seems like a long time to other people and I can hear it now. "Oh, I'm worried about her, she's still not moving on, by now she shouldn't be having such trouble." But I just can't do it yet. Not sure when I'll be able to face this gut wrenching chore. Perhaps I'll even need a little help on it...

Yesterday I talked with my friend Leslie from Sacramento. She is a widow too and lost her husband a few months after Ken died. She still hasn't gone through Bob's clothes either. Hearing that, sure made me feel that I'm normal. Well...relatively so. (: You know what I mean!!