I am tired of living this.
Preaching to the choir, I realize.
I am tired of all of it,
and tired of the person I am these days,
tired of being down and annoyed and sad at the person I am.
I'd like to go now.
Hey babe. Your son is so sweet. He calls me on his way out of work. Calls to see if I want to come have tea with him. He is the only one who talks about you like normal. He's the only one who doesn't seem to give me that pity face I am so tired of. He doesn't give me "meaningful touches" to show he empathizes. Anyway. He is a good kid babe. Handsome. I saw him up at the counter, from the back, and saw shades of your musculature rippling under his shirt. He says he is glad you didn't have to ever get old and sick and be trapped in a hospital bed. That if you had to choose, you would have chosen this way, though older, and not to cause us any pain.
Free to the end, my love.
And, Jake and I were discussing how you used to come up behind and knock our knees out. He told me how some friends of his do that to him now, but he always turns around expecting it to be you. Just the look on his face as he demonstrates for me, I can see, though he doesn't say it, that he is disappointed when it isn't.
I dreamed this morning something long and involved, but in the end, I was laughing. It was a painful dream, but still, in the end, I was laughing. And as I woke up, I thought - man it was so good to laugh.
For our birthday season this year, I am going to learn how to slaughter and butcher a pig. How insane is that. I am camping for the weekend on-site; the first time since way Before. Probably for the first time since we drove cross-country, since we hadn't taken overnight hikes in quite awhile. Remember our very first trip? I hadn't eaten pork in almost 15 years, but we stopped on the way to the mountains and bought thick cut, local bacon. You cooked it over the fire while I was still asleep inside the tent. From there to slaughtering pigs. So much time has passed. So much everything.
I am so tired. I am so tired of coming home after these long ass days that are beating me up and know you are not here. At all. I am tired of missing you, of needing to miss you. Of why I miss you. There is no - good thing. There is no good thing at the end of my day, no rest. Just, as Julia just wrote, just getting up to do it all again.
That's all. I miss you. I am older than you now, and you won't catch up on these birthdays you have no need of anymore.