I woke up again with rain beating on roof, it's the second, maybe third day in a row. This weather reminds of the weather after Bob died when it felt like the world was weeping with me.
My mood matches the weather. A sort of Edgar Allan Poe's single effect theory in action. I am gloomy as the sky.
For a long time, I have been afraid to blog my feelings. Afraid of -- what? Barbed wire comments. Nasty people. Bob's family comes to mind. They never liked me, never understood him. And grief is so personal.
At night, I sit on the back porch and watch the rain, telephone beside me, hoping for a friendly call that does not come.
It is so lonely here.
The guest house is now empty of Chris' things.
Yesterday, Bubba stopped by to drop of Bob's tools. The red metal toolbox from The Green Machine, the one we always carried in the trunk in case the car broke down. Funnels and rags and buckets for oil changes and checking the fluid levels. An empty gas can. The car jack that we once used to lift an antique cupboard up the wall. The green plastic Hawaiin lei that he had hung over the rear view mirror. So many memories there.
These things brought me to tears.
I had Bubba put everything in the garage -- I'll deal with it later. So I say. Even as Bob's clothes are still in the closet and in the drawers and the shorts he was to wear the day he died are still folded, waiting for him, on the bedroom trunk.....
Some days are worse than others. The rain does not help....