Someone dug a hole six long feet in the ground, I said good-bye to you and I threw my roses down*
My house smells like dead flowers.
I'm not sure what to do with them and I'm having trouble bringing myself to throw them away.
The roses...the roses I pulled apart and the petals are drying in a box, someday destined to become potpourri.
But the rest of them...the daffodils and snapdragons and daisies...I think Husband is quietly putting them in the compost when I'm not looking.
I was also not looking when Husband came downtown to meet me for lunch and quietly took the pictures out of J~'s office (at my aunt's request, of course. She wanted them. I couldn't bring myself to do it.)
Life goes on. I go to court. I meet with clients, some of them J's clients, some of them my own.
We invited friends over for our annual July 3rd bash. Friends came, we ate and we drank and we swam and we watched the fireworks from the comfort of our front yard.
I laughed. I laughed quite a bit during the party. I embraced having some of most favorite people around me for an entire day and into the night. It was a lovely respite.
Tomorrow it will have been two weeks since J's death and today I am gloomy and melancholy and full of anxiety.
I'm not sure how long the grief goes on. I wanted this day - this day to be lazy and do nothing, but I'm not sure the empty day is good for me.
*Patty Griffin, Long Ride Home