I’m back in routine. Walked to the museum and gallery. I feel flat emotionally and there was no need to be social so it worked out well. It’s better to get out than sit here. Sleep is still broken and not restful. My mind is still grasping the fact that my son is dead. I’m not sure I believe it. I keep hearing that time will blur the sharp edges. Until then I will march in place.
I'm catching up, as you can see. Ah, this grief process is a tough one and, like me, it's even harder because we are seniors. I'm thinking of you.
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