Since it's the weekend ( woohoo) I get to sleep in a bit later. When I get up, I get to stay in my PJ's and make a cuppa and read newpapers, magazine articles, and do puzzles on-line. I have brekky at the computer desk and I encourage my brain to expand a bit.
I have always loved to read, and it was something that I thought that I had lost when you died so suddenly-my ability to concentrate on the subtleties and nuaunces in any kind of text was simply gone for a very long time.
Happily, it has returned in force.
I just plowed through the first two Twilight books ( everyone is reading them, lol) and look forward to reading the next two. The author is not going to win any Pulitzers for writing, but these books have a story that is intriguing and characters that make sense.
My magazine pile is growing once again, and on Saturdays (or as you would have said, SAT-day, lol-Oh, how I miss that accent around the house) and Sundays I can linger at the computer for an easy hour or two reading things like the New York Times editorials regarding Obama's cabinet choices, PerezHilton and his scathing celeb nonesense, the blogs of fellow widowers, gardening ideas at Martha Stewart, NASA picture of the day, and etc.
How could I NOT love the wonders of the internet?
After all, it was the conduit for our finding each other in the first place!
One article I read this morning had an interview wiht Michelle Williams-Heath Ledger's love, once upon a time. She is, like anyone who has lost someone dear, forever changed, and she is starting to realize it. My heart breaks for her and her daughter.
Here is a paragrah or two from the article at Newsweek:
Williams is jovial and chatty, until the conversation turns to Heath. You can see it's still difficult for her to talk about him, and she hasn't done so publicly until now.
The first time Ledger's name comes up, she bursts into tears. "It's so sad," Williams says. When she's asked about how she's been doing in the past year, she's silent for a very long time.
"I guess it's always changing," she says. There's another pause. "What else can I say?" Her voice is breathy and fragile, and she takes a few gulps of air.
"I just wake up each day in a slightly different place—grief is like a moving river, so that's what I mean by 'it's always changing'." She stops again.
"It's a strange thing to say"—her words unravel slowly, her eyes tear up—"because I'm at heart an optimistic person, but I would say in some ways it just gets worse. It's just that the more time that passes, the more you miss someone.
In some ways it gets worse. That's what I would say."
That's what I would say too, Michelle. Exactly.
Love you Dazzy. Always.
PS-The picture above is of the Yarra River, in gorgeous Melbourne. We walked along it many times when I was in OZ, and if grief is like a moving river, then my river is in OZ...