countdown

Now, it's almost Pat's birthday and I think I'm actually more worried than anything else. Worried I won't do something I should, like call my dad. Or that I'll do something I shouldn't, like upset my sister-in-law. I've gotten to the point where I try to avoid thinking much about the so-called big days. There are too many for me to track now. I think I was actually fine, or close to fine as one can be after losing one's mother. But now, to quote from Pulp Fiction, I'm pretty f***ing far from OK. I wonder if I'll ever be truly OK again. I used to be fine with the idea that I'll have Good Days and Bad Days. But when there are so many days to mourn and miss one's departed loved ones, it seems as though all of life is just one long Bad Day.