One Foot in Front of the Other

One foot in front of the other.
A good mantra to get through each and every day
when your life's purpose has changed.

So many changes in my work place, and so many other changes at home now.  Last weekend, I rearranged the work bench in the garage.  I don't use the open end wrenches and other tools that my son used.  Now it's more basic:  hammer, saw, hacksaw, screwdriver are all in their places on the pegboard.  Gone are the bits and pieces of junk that accumulated over the years.  I know Brian knew what each one of those pieces were for, but I didn't.  He liked to listen to music when he was out there working, but the radio he used was gone, so today I took down the speakers.  I like music when I work, but I don't need it so loud! 

I struggle every day, though, to put one foot in front of the other.  When I'm at work, there are things that need to be done.  But when I'm all caught up, it's difficult to keep putting one foot out there.  When I'm at home?  Yikes, it's even harder.  I'm an early morning person, and got my walk done, my bed sheets washed and back on the bed, breakfast eaten, raked around the bushes out front, dug on my stump again (just a little every day until it's gone!)  and when I sat down, it was like 9:30am. 

*sigh*  then there's the rest of the day to contend with. 

I have projects.  This nice thing about projects is that they're something to keep you busy.  The bad part of projects that have a lot of components is that everything is sitting out and I feel guilty when I don't do a little bit each day. 


But some days, I just don't have it in me. 


I read, and have folks tell me, that this will pass eventually.
But it's so hard.
Today I sat down to have breakfast, and fell asleep.
I'm sure that is related to not sleeping well at night.

I dreamed that Brian was at a Walmart with me.  We were both stocking from a cart in the lunchmeat aisle.  He tried to see me and looked around one side of the cart and I tucked to look at him from the other side.  It felt like we just couldn't connect.  Maybe that's a part of it.  A little bit of him lets go every time something else comes up (like finding tidbits of junk in the garage).  As I prepared for his Celebration of Life ceremony, my biggest fear -- and still is -- is that he will be forgotten.  I keep mentioning this, it comes to mind often, and I just don't seem able to stop it.  Maybe that's my own brain telling me that I didn't write something, or share a photo, often enough and I need to do more.

For me, it's like this little blog.  I write because it's who I am.  Some day, maybe someone will know "the real me" because I don't hold much back.  And it's the same with writing down Brian's stories -- maybe someday someone will know him like I did. 

Nothing takes away the hurt,
but with each passing day,
it's just a little less.