The bereavement counselor assures me I will feel much worse soon, but she will be available to assist me for the next thirteen months. This fails to dampen my general mood of relief bordering on resurgence. I feel like I'm emerging from a very long tunnel. I already have two more hours in every day, and an enormous weight off my shoulders.
Did Dad see the light at the end of the tunnel? I don't know. He was not able to provide hints to those of us monitoring his crossing.
My ducks are not in a row. I still don't know diddly about probate, except that it's beneficial for some attorney$. My ducks are under Custer Road up by Schimelpfenig Library. Make way.
© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder
5 comments:
I received mailings from the hospital's bereavement counselors. They were very odd mailings. Nothing they predicted was true for me. They never held meetings at times I could attend.
Just go your own way and feel what you feel.
Thanks for the reinforcement!
Last night a woman was speaking of "gutting it out" of some really low, low spots emotionally. I am glad you are ducking it out, and not feeling low, low, low.
I remember signs in your postings your dad saw the end of the tunnel all along the way. I am grateful for your honesty.
Thanks, Kim. That's a good way to look at it.
Post a Comment