“When is it the hardest?” my friend Susan asked me, in the first year. “When I wake up and when I go to sleep.” I answered. Right now, the hardest pain is in the gray.
The time, head on pillow, lights out when my mind drifts free, musing on the day, the book I was reading. I'm drifting down into gray; a gray river I can see flowing while I drift slightly above. . It's pain, grief, sorrow. I wish for sleep before I get there. I dread sleep because it is there.
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