I can feel myself fighting this depression. I have a lot in my bucket to help me. I woke up to prayers sent by email from friends. I woke up to a sunny day in London. I woke up to Ari asking, "Can I play on the iPad?" I woke up to a tight huge and I Love You from Isaac and a plea for me to make him crepes. I woke up to Laila's puppy breath.
But all of this is coupled with panic. I'm sitting on my yoga mat as I write this. This new drug I'm taking is injections in my belly and the two spots from yesterday are sore. I'll do whatever yoga I can. No bow pose, that's for sure. Ouch.
Allison went home today, and Susanne is still here with me. They have vowed not to leave me alone. They are precious soul mates. I'm not so good alone. I tried it yesterday when I lay down to take a rest. It pretty much sucked. I'm like a deer in the headlights. Blogging through this seems to help me. It's not lonely. At first, I thought it might be, but it's not. It's different. It's not a letter, not a diary, not fiction writing, maybe a little bit memoir and a little bit Rock 'n Roll.
Speaking of letters. Should I start writing them to my kids? Ones they can open through the years on their birthdays or for when they get their first girlfriend or graduate from High School and College? For when they get married? For when they make decisions, without a mom?
Do I have just a few months left? Or do I maybe have years? We all have to live with not knowing.
love you
Dina
I am sitting with a few hundred letters that my grandfather wrote to my grandmother over their decade-long engagement, which I hope to transcribe for my whole family to read. I figure he saved them for a reason. Even if you live to be 100, your family will value anything you write now, even grandchildren you may or may not know.
ReplyDeleteLove from Erich