There's nothing much to do but ride those days (and thoughts) out and remind myself that, even though they feel permanent, my thoughts and feelings are temporary. I can say all that this morning but yesterday all I felt capable of was whining to Dearest One for the umpteenth time. Where is my motivation? Why aren't I better already?!
Today is the second anniversary of my dad's passing. No matter what the ageing process threw at him, he would get a wry grin on his face, lift his pointer finger in the air and proclaim, "It beats the alternative." He meant it with every fiber of his being.
I'm writing this at about the hour he passed away. Whew. Deep breath. I still can't write more about it than that.
This morning I cleaned the fridge out ahead of grocery shopping later on. As I took a jar of mostly pickle juice out of the fridge and dumped its contents, I was brought back to a time 25 years ago when the only thing in my fridge was a jar of pickle juice and a few potatoes. Meager pickings with three little ones to feed. We lived on home made bread and baked beans. At one point I went to the food bank and swallowed hard when I told the woman behind the desk that my kids hadn't had any fresh produce in so long. She didn't have any. That was a hard day.
Better days came even though it wasn't the last time we needed to use the food bank. The next time my kids were teenagers. The day the lady at the food bank offered me a 20 pound bag of flour someone had donated was a good one. Baked goods fill bellies. I love to bake.
My dad's favourite dessert was pie. Last summer I bought fresh picked berries and stuck them in the freezer in anticipation of making a pie for dessert tonight.
I'm glad the sun showed up again today. I'm grateful for another try.
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