It’s been seven months. I sit in my old, flannel robe. Lost the tie years ago, so it’s wrapped tightly around me, kimono-style. Old gym socks on my feet. Arms wrapped around my knees, I huddle on the couch, staring at the television screen but not really seeing. The house is so big and so cold. One body doesn’t generate enough heat for this house. I glance over at my family photo collection and smile back at my husband, dad and mom, my sister, all gone now. Permanent smiles on their faces, reminding me of happier times. Years and years, gone — just like that. Really gone. Not coming back. I get it. So why don’t I crack up? Why don’t I fall so low into that ditch called depression that I can’t climb back up? Why is it that I’m still able to laugh? To spot that beautiful yellow finch at the top of the tree and smile.
Why is it that I keep jumping back on the merry-go-round, go for a few more spins and then slide off into the sand, humbled once again? At some point, I stand up, shake the sand off and try again. Why?
I’ve come to the conclusion that it is my sanity soldiers. You know who you are. Thank God for my family, my friends, my counselor, my pastor, my fellow bloggers — all of you. You hold me up. You keep giving me a reason to remember that life does goes on. And it is good. The finches do return to those trees, no matter what. That merry-go-round keeps spinning. I just need to keep jumping back on, grab that bar and hang on! And in time, I’ll be spinning with the best of them!
Thank you! Thank God!