In going through some of your folders on the CPU I found this-your DB tribute dino, LOL Its so CUTE!
I remember you drawing it, sitting in the living room/office space that I occupy now. I have rearranged the bookshelf and taken down one of the monitors as well as removed your draw pad, but to me it will always be your desk, your cpu, your office space.
You told me stories about Sir Donald and we talked about my love of baseball and your love of ANY sport with a ball, LOL... We always had things to talk about. From the mundane to the sublime, we could chat each other up about most any subject. Even when it was an "eyes glazing over now " kinda thing-like when I used to tell you and Mikey that I could tell you how WWII ended for crying out loud when you would watch the military or history channel ad nausem..or when Ash and I would hog the TV for HGTV or WE for Bridezillas and Platinum Weddings :) You and I always wound up talking afterward and we usually learned something new. That was a really fun part of out relationship.
Tonight I am waiting to hear about your Mum as she is in hospital. She has all that awful heart/artery stuff which sadly got passed along to you ( and your poor brother). I'm sure she will be OK, she's had a zillion of these type things before, but still. It's hard to be far away. I bet you are right there with her though, aren't you babe? You always were a great kid. :P
I really have the blues this week. Not debilitating or anything but just sadness all the way to my marrow in my half-century old bones. Christmas is staring me in the face everywhere I turn. Turkey recipes are popping up on the 'net just like those damn lil timers they now put in the birds so you can tell when they're really done. Damn.
I refuse to even think about New Years Eve.
I do think about the most insignificant yet detailed things throughout my day, however. What a weird thing mourning is. Today I thought about one of the first pictures you ever sent me in an email. Remember dial up honey? GOD it took f-o-r-e-v-e-r to download a piccie.
Dinosaur days in the CPU world, :P
Anyway, the one that I am thinking of is the one where you hand is in your jeans pocket, you all casual at some bar, and I can see how sculptured you hands look. I took one look and knew you were a gifted artist-and I told you that.
You thought I was crazy.
I said " No, really, I can tell a lot about you by your hands-the symmetry, the delicate strength, the long fingers...everything. Strength, compassion, artistry-I saw it all in that photo with your hand half in your pocket. I wasn't wrong now, was I?
I thought about that photo today. I also thought about you a zillion other times, about us, our life together, the kids, our plans, and how all of that is now changing, morphing into something I am totally unprepared for. I am such a leader type, like you honey, and such a control freak that all of this is like what my Dad used to call "flying through the fog." You can't see, you have to rely on instruments and, according to Jackson, "guts." I knew he really mean one's gut, but we know my Dad, huh babe? Cellulose phones and all that jazz :P
Eventually, fog lifts. The sun's rays evaporate the moisture out of it and one can see clearly again. Right now I am in a fog so thick it's like New England clam chowder with a side of pea soup. A scary movie type of fog-all spooky and wispy and going on forever in all directions.
This is the kind of fog that closes airports and makes boat horns work overtime.
The kind where it drowns out sound itself it's so thick.
I can't see where my road leads.
I an driving a car without fog lights, and I am alone.
I love you Dazzles. Always. And more. Here's hoping for sunshine tomorrow.