Six months later.

In less than a year since I last wrote a blog on this very personal site my life has changed drastically.  If I look back I  see a clear pattern of events.  The ‘things’ that happened stand out like beacons of light marking my journey into very unknown terrains clearly.  How it all happened and is still unfolding is a testimony to the presence of my Creator as a ‘spiritual Father’ in my life.  There can be no doubt of His existance in the universe.  I have had a personal confimration of this.  This is not a reality I have chosen to weave for myself.  I would never have been able to bring any of this about had it not been for divine intervention and what my parents have done for me as individuals morally and financially.
On the 21st October last year my life changed – those who read my blog know the story.  On the 24th November of the   same year I chose to commit my life to another person  I didn’t quite know why or where or when I decided to do this…I just did.   I just know I was very tired of searching and living the way I was.  In retrospect I do believe that I was so damaged from what had happened to me in January of 2018 – the behavior of the one person I loved and trusted deeply and who really only played with me as a person and woman  – like a cat plays with a half dead mouse – was the catalyst that caused me to make a desperate leap of faith. One form of ‘ emotional’ death could be no worse than the other…anything was better than what I was living. 
I made decisions I never thought I would ever make in a life that was so routine and solitary.  I lived all my hours, days and weeks, months and year for the students entrusted to me and for the love of the Arts.  But each Friday evening when I closed the doors to the school I was alone until the following Monday morning and the usual Monday morning sms’s that notifiy me of what is now known in my school as the ‘monday-sickeness-after-the-weekend syndrome. Pupils are never so ill as on a Monday after the weekend.  There must be a theory there somehwere. 
I finally grasped the reality of my life – wrestled with it amongst many hours of angst and tears and decided to set myself free of the subservient reality I was living as a teacher in this community I have served for more than 40 years.  I must just last out for another while.  I use the word subservient because I work in a community where the perception of dedication to the arts is one of the following: I pay the teacher and therefore I attend as I see fit. This entitles me to either skip lessons including extra lessons. The 2nd perception is: I  pay the teacher who works towards helping me achieve my best – there is no extra expense for my parents for extra tuition or anything else for that matter so at least I try.    Enough said of this reality.

I have made as mentioned before, decisions I never ever thought I would and I am stronger and better for it.  I have the support and love of one individual who has been with me every step of this journey encouraging me and spiritually holding my hand when I didn’t know which way to go – when the road ahead got too dark to even follow through. The hardest task was to sell my beloved Renatus – my home – the place where my mother and I lived our lives and I tried to make the dreams become a reality.  When one is in service of a community dreams become wild horses and the nightmares are as soft as thunder during the anxious days days and nights while you as a teacher try to validate your profession.  I never thought I would have the strength to change my reality.  I didn’t know how to stay and I didn’t know how to leave.  But the love of one person has taken me face to face with my truth.  And this is all that I am now living for.  I have taken my mother with on this journey and I thank my Creator each day and each night for bringing this into my life.  It hasn’t been without pain and challenges.  I had to give up everything I have nurtured and loved here.  I had to give up 80% of my life as I know it.  Materially I had to let go of many many precious things that marked certain stages of my life.  Most of my precious books I had to let go as well as paintings, music collections and all those thrings that define certain episodes in life…it is now all gone.   What I face ahead of me with regard to my beloved NooNoo I don’t even wish to contemplate but we are both survivors and we WILL with His grace survive this reality.  One day I shall start this blog with the words:  I am home.  NooNoo and I are home. 


Thankyou to those who made me endure so much pain.


And I am very afraid....but I shall be strong


For Alan

You Found Me.

You found me broken and floundering
in a sea of suicidal intent
and refashioned a heart broken …battered… and bent
You redirected my course
mapped by  the shame of self harm
challenged by emotions that were  wilful
and easily spent….validified.. but never calm
You forced confrontation with another
image of myself
and brought me back from a madness
birthed by  misguided reason
all the tools of a lost souls  wealth.
You loosened the chains of isolation
self enforced to be sure
I would not again find myself
weeping for something or someone
that was not worthy to endure.
You reminded me of freedom
if only I would heed the call
Your voice was so soothing
the words would catch and break
my fears to fall.
You asked me a question
I never thought I would hear a man say
and in that single moment
you ransomed me like a redeemer
who would offer anything to pay…
for a soul that was floundering and who had lost her way
You stopped and held me captive
within the space of your arms
and I could not escape the warmth
that was a fragrant healing balm.
Now I stand in the shadows of a man
honed, tempered and reshaped  by a Creator’s hand
and you wait for me to come to the threshing floor
in a strange and distant land.

UK spelling applied to the word wilful.

I was found….

That this blog is a very personal testimony to my journey as a human being, a soul in a woman’s body, as a teacher and daughter cannot be refuted. I have held nothing back for this was the platform upon which I bared my soul and sought healing. It was the platform from which I spoke of my moments of Truths and from where I pleaded my case to spiritual realms and dimentions.

In the past five months I have tried to find my way back to my Creator. The precept held by many learned ones that the more knowledge one has the more confusing Truths become is not to be doubted. It is in fact so. The more I searched for God the more I lost my direction back to Him. But I never stopped praying. I never stopped praying that He would send to me a man who is one of His own. One who would love me for who and what I am and who would accept my status as a woman. I prayed this prayer with deep fervour – so much so that at times it hurt from somewhere deep inside and I always felt numb afterwards – hearing nothing and seeing even less. I tried so hard within my grief for the loss of my mother to hear His voice. When you are as lost as I am the smallest direction helps.

I was found in October by a man who is everything I could hope for. When I was a younger teacher he was my dearest and only friend. With him I could be anything I wanted, however I wanted. We were so easy with each other simply because we were friends -like brother and sister. We could speak about anything and very often did. I was creative and he was as well – in a different way to myself – but creative nevertheless and we recognised in each other committment and passion to the things that defined us. Then one day everything changed. And he was gone from my life to marry and leave for another country. I can’t remember how I said goodbye. I just remember not being able to absorb the reality as I watched him drive away. I had difficulty in hearing and I seemed to have lost visual focus. I was in shock and my mother came to me and asked what was wrong. I vowed to her that I would never again speak to him, or want to know about him or acknowledge his humanity. I became very ill for days and I remember thinking to myself that this was a typical Kathy Linton scenario as she mourned the loss and longing for Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. Up to that time I always thought the writing of Emily Bronte a bit excessive. Experiencing the loss of my friend put everything into place for me. I finally understood Kathy Linton’s ‘ extremes ‘ in emotional behavior. I was at the very same place. It took me five years to come to terms with the loss of A in my life. I promised myself I would never let anyone into my life or that close to me again. I was faithful to my promise and I began to then lead a routinely solitary life. Teaching, spending my energies on pupils who for the most part ( there were always the exceptions) didn’t desearve it, taking care of my mother – and at that time I tried to reconnect with a father I never knew. I poured all the excess emotions in to my art and writing. I kept to my vow of never wanting to communicate or speak to him again. The pain of it would have been more than I could bear. I always remained fragile to his reality and life. And he went on to forge a wonderfully successful life and beautiful family. Men like him did that because they are committed and true to those they embrace and draw into their world.

It was the passing of my mother that brought him into my life through an email. I was determined not to answer it and after I sat and re- read it for many hours. I replied. And the spark ignited and it was as though the years slipped away – all the pain, the episodes that touched me and refined and rehoned my soul and persona…it was as though nothing had happened. My friend and brother was back with me – even from across the ocean. After the initial outbursts and explanations and tantrums that only I can throw ( which he permitted me to vent for he is that kind of man)..the storm which was raging for so long inside of me and which not one…not even my closest two people knew anything of – was finally calmed. In a truly ‘Damascus’ moment I knew I never stopped loving him – I had just supressed it so deeply for so long in order to validate my reticence at the time and my anger thereafter.

The love I felt for a man who supported me after my mother left I realise now was not love at all but a transference of the nurturing love I felt for my mother . I was very afraid of being alone – for alone I truly was except for the support of my two ex pupils (now grown with their own families). I had dedicated my life to a career that brought very little fulfillment as a woman. Dance was everything and my dedication to it rewarded me with emptiness and social isolation. Family I do not have. So I clung to a man who confused and emotionally annihilated me. Severe damage was done. What I experienced then and termed ‘love’ pales by comparison to what I now know.

After the January 14 meltdown and the ensuing problems of self harm I experienced I fought as hard as I could to become the person my mother always wanted me to be. I knew with deep guilt that the truth of any situation such as this brings that I had let her down. I had in a way forgotten everything she ever taught me. I was filled with deep remorse and regret. How could I just tell her I was ashamed and deeply sorry…(if God would only grant me a moment) I never stopped praying …never in all the time that I was floundering with emotional pain and grief. I asked my Creator Father to be found by a man who is one of His own.
Like the Prodigal son…I was terribly lost and am now found.

I dont know what lies ahead and I am afraid..of many things. I only know that in this moment in time I am speaking to the best that has happened to me. For his sake I am trying to heal the things and issues that caused my ‘fall from grace…

imageMom if only I could tell you…

Mom if only I could tell you...




24th September 2018

You know your life is in trouble when there is no significant change or progress.  There has been none in mine. The dreams and the projects I nurtured bore no fruit.  Perhaps it wasn’t the right time or place for that matter.  I got to know some new acquaintances and with the most anguished heart I have let these fine people go to move back into their own cycle of life.  The men were all very noble and intellectual and although their aging marriages seemed to show signs of dyng I was and am not wired to be a distracting light.

When one is lost and alone and floundering in a sea of remorse and grief one tends to hold onto anything and anyone who shows empathy. This is a mistake one makes out of fear …fear of being alone. Fear is a very underrated reality. Not enough is written about the reality of áloneness’. I made a crucial error of judgement clouded by my grief and it cost me more than I could afford to pay emotinally. I permitted myself to love again. ULtimately he was wrong for me as a woman, a spiritual being and person. My search to replace the love and nurturing I gave my mother lead me to situations that was heaven and sheer hell – both were equally elusive.  And accepting this reality has made me realise that in many ways I am dying to myself.

There can be no good outcome to where I find myself in life at this moment in Time.  My two most loyal ex students (and now good friends with families of their own) know the Truth of my situation and what I experience in service to the Arts and in Teaching.  They understand with empathy and support me whenever possible but it of course is not their reality.  I know  and realise with a sickening feeling that I cannot go on as I am doing.  It has to end one way or the other.  The more I search for that elusive and unconditional love the more I loose a piece of my soul and my sense of value as a human being.   I cannot find it where I live for this is a community that is beyond cruel and the rules of engagement define even the logic of Sun Tzu – had he been alive today his brilliant manuscript – The Art of War – would be sorely challenged in trying to survive Rand*********.

Abandonment is a shocking reality.  It is  hard for anyone who enjoyed so much support and concern and advice on a day to day basis through endless messages and calls to suddenly be catapulted into a silent void.  The one person I admired unconditionally was not who he seemed to be and it was a hard and bitter and crippling lesson to learn…but learn it I did.  How is it that a heart that was once so full of compassion and feeling can now be so indifferent and cold?….for that is how my heart emerged through this ‘Baptism of Fire’ .  I had to reach this age to severely experience this.  I realise more and more my mother loved me too much while my father did not love me at all.  Yet they both protected me with a fierceness that knew no rules.  I miss that ….and I cannot find it.

My dream for my publication of the Afrikaans Poetry manifested itself in only one area – the other failed dismally and I have withdrawn the manuscript I have submitted for the publication of The Eternal Flame.   I always seem to make the wrong choices while voices urge to do ‘what is right for you’.  How can a floundering soul ‘know’ what is right for them.  When my parents were alive I had a backup plan – now that they are no longer here – there is no backup plan.  I never understood the parable of the Prodical Son – in fact I was very adverse to it for it seemed to me that the eldest son was unfairly treated.  But now I understand…for the very first time I understand how it was/is and always will be .  IF you have much to give materially, financially and emotionally you will always be surrounded by takers and grateful recipients…but once the source of giving runs dry there are only shadows where once there used to be people.  Everyone was willing to take what I could give.  Now it is all strangely silent and empty.  The Prodical son had a father to go to…I have no father to run home to – no one who will take me in his arms and say: it doesn’t matter …nothing matters except that you are home…and I am your father.

Continue reading

Holding on…

There were many nights I looked at the screen of my Tablet having so much to say and not being able to bring myself to write it out. My spirit longed to express the many emotions raging within me…never giving me the peace I have been so desperate to find. I realised with crystal clear and chilling clarity that I am mourning my mother now more than last year this time. I am missing her more, I am crying more, I remember more ….everything is more. The ‘stage’ of this happening has been cleared of caring people who appeared for a while and then left as unceremoniously as they entered my reality last year in July of 2017. Only I am alone in the vast space…looking into an unfathomable darkness, hearing a faint melody somewhere and ‘knowing’ deep within myself that those thoughts of dismal despair I felt after each hospital visit are now a reality.

After July,and this year’s July was extreme in every way but mostly weatherwise the race against time is on. Enduring this fierce cold without the use of heating challenged every fibre of my being. From now on as we approach August and the usual events that August brings it is a race against time to bring the expectations of creativity to completion. Then it’s the next challenge of exams with the students and all the stress and temperament and absenteeism that goes with it. I am trying and I believe that up until now I have managed it, not to show the students where I am in my life health wise. No one feels confident in a teacher with health issues caused by emotional trauma. I am fighting as hard as I know how to cope.

I know that there are still many challenges that awaits me. I have survived the storms that unrequited love brings. I have survived being verbally trashed over realities I was never a part of and therefore never understood. I have been healed by the understanding and guidance of a very good Buddhist teacher. I have been lost and lonely almost each day while I anxiously wait for my mother’s estate to come to completion. The anxiety that this reality has caused is beyond measure. I have lost the communicative indulgence of a person I once held in very high regard and I have gained simple consideration from others who don’t boast degrees and citations but who have that one ability…that one quality that renders them superior to the ‘man’. Compassion. If one lacks compassion – what is there that marks you as a person of value? Is that not our purpose in life irrespective of our doctrinal precepts?

2018 – It is different

I purposely stopped blogging for a while.  The routine of life was challenging and I tried with every fibre of my being to rise to the occasion. I failed dismally and it was a reality that took much courage to come to terms with.  I did not want my blogs to become a continual outpouring of my souls anguish.

I continued to love….deeply and devotedly.  It was the one thing that kept me alive through all the empty and lost days without my mother to guide, advise and support me.  How I missed her words and her wisdom.  How I have missed her presence in the house.  The greeting when I get back from wherever I have been and the reminder to be safe when I leave.  I painted the walls of my home sometimes twice over to give myself something to achieve.  I wrote poems and wove together words that spoke of my  devotion to a single human being.  I painted canvases and I tried to make others happy because I was so unhappy.   I gave all I had to give …in everyway possible.    I was not prepared for the emotional meltdown I experienced in early January.  Everything that gave my life purpose was suddenly in jeopardy .  I was bereft with disbelief and if the truth here in this blog has any value then I must say:  I did not know how to handle the situation and I made all the mistakes it is possible to make when one is threatened by the loss of ‘Lifes purpose’.  My Life Purpose.

I suppose everyone goes through a similar experience….that awful ghastly moment  when you realise you are going to lose the one reality  that gives your life meaning.  I was numb and my emotions shredded and in the silence of the dark night alone in my home death seemed to be the only way out….and I really needed to die during those hours….not because I didnt love life or were tired of living …but because my soul needed rest.  I needed to sleep the pain away.  But sleep did not come and the wrong reactions happened.   I severed a bond that would have been better left untended.  But I was hurting from confrontations.  I felt broken and had nothing left. 

We live for years ‘knowing’ inside ourselves what we need and want from loving others. Whether this is love between child and parent(s), siblings, cousins, friends…it is still love of a kind.    We have this preconceived idea that it will  be something that is noble and pure and good.  We long for the moments of communication and truthful expression of thought, knowledge and sometimes sincere emotion.  We carry it like a fire in our hearts.  Sometimes the flames burn so fiercely we become ‘high’ on emotion.   I was living on that ‘high’ for days and weeks and months.

Now as January moves swiftly ,with the old pace of life, to a close I have learned many things.  I have learned that I am capable of loving a single human being unconditionally with no expectation whatsoever.  I have learned that my intergrity, my Truth and my offer of Trust is still what I bring to the threshing floor.  I have learned what it is to truly love and to hope for that one moment of pure Truth between two people who recognise each others souls.  I have learned the pain of waiting.  I learned what it is to try over and over again to make anothers life better,  to place someone elses emotions and feelings before my own – for while I have this reality so has he his own realities.  He has his own ‘dark night of the soul’.

In our lifetime God gives  us the capacity to love more than one person greatly.  We are given the capacity to know many facets of love.  It does not matter if it is love between friends, man and woman, child and parent.   With each encounter there is a uniqueness that cannot be explained or repeated.  I am grateful that I was given this gift to love to this extent. It does no longer matters whether it is reciprocated or whether it isnt ..or whether it may be or whether or not it has valuein the eyes of the world.  What matters is that it has value to me….and it is something that belongs to me only…and I will always hold it as a fire in my heart….and it will not be shaken.  Perhaps my  Creator will be merciful and send another  into the peripheral of my life ….so that  I may recognise  a different reality…. a person who has the capacity  to  enfold me and hold me fast and heal my brokenness….and I will  love differently…..but nothing and no one will replace what I have felt and continue to feel for this one single human being I have grown to love.  This Truth has been etched on my soul and the reality will span eternity.

Love – unconditional and true – permits one to experience Heaven and Hell.  Both journeys are equally hazardous.  

The days after…

It is sometimes so hard to imagine that only three months have passed since the passing of my beloved mother, Beth.  I dont know how I managed the routine of the week, except that I knew I must and that alone permitted me to survive my grief.  Now I no longer burst into floods of remorse and tears.  I no longer feel the need to audio journal words to her hoping that from wherever she is she is able to hear. I do none of those things anymore.  My grief turned into a terrible sense of ‘hurt’ and anger that she left my life when she did.  It was the last thing I needed.  Is anyone ever prepared for it…the parting of two kindred spirits?  I spent  hours in anguished prayer asking over and over for insight and strength.  I pleaded for understanding.  I heard nothing…the silence was beyond deafening.  It was also deadening. I am now at a place where I am vunerable to many things and people and I have already born the brunt of the latter.  My anger and hurt is staying longer than my grief.  I question everything while trying to survive the days.  For weeks I had lost my sense of purpose.  I woke one morning and realised that if I am to continue in Life I need to walk away from many of my issues without losing my deepest desire and longing to belong…to be loved.  I realised with a numbing coldness that nothing is going to change my reality.  I made my mothers room a shrine to herself.  I left  everything as it was …never moved a pencil or pen so fervently used in her pursuit of crosswords.  Her telephones are still as she left it.  Her clothes and personal belongings are as it always was…..everything the same ..except she isnt coming back.   I dont know what compelled me to distress my own personal belongings….all my clothes, shoes, jackets and favourite perfume I gathered together in 8minutes to be exact and because it was a Tuesday morning when I had this ‘meltdown’ I gave it to those who scavenge  through the garbage.  Every Tuesday sees the same activity….me carrying loads outside to the front gate.  I have been so alone in spite of the words of comfort so sincerely offered by many.  Words cant hold me in the long hours of the night when I cant sleep.  Words cant make it better when I start panicking because a storm is brewing.  With my mom in the house I could cope with the fears and panic attacks.  But I am alone and in this isolation I  strive to deliver all that is expected of me…it is costing more than it should.  

In this journey that I was forced to undertake and cope  with I learned many many things.  I learned what it means to be valued and I learned what it means to survive on my own.  I learned that I can no longer consult with someone over decisions I have no expertise for.  I learned that words of comfort and help have their place and are a balm when the heart and soul is cold with fear.    One accepts these offers of comfort  graciously because it all comes from sincere hearts.  I am grateful for the caring. 

There is one…one person who has held my hand in a spiritual sense while I fell to the ground and got up over and over again.  One who spoke me through the long hours of the night when sleep would not come.  Who encouraged me to be strong and ‘report for duty’ ….who showed me that my life was and always is one of service.  One who constantly challenged my mind and redirected my broken heart.  One who reminded me that what I had given and what I had done for a father who did not know or understand me and who never held my hand or said he loved me , and for a mother who loved me too much was all what God expected of me.  I was and am now free.  One who showed me that I am now  free to be a woman of my own making and that the reward for selfless dedication which we both had towards our parents has its terrible pain but also its rewards.  It could not have gone any other way because of our ingrained sense of duty and committment.  The solace that was brought to my soul by these words cannot not be measured.  I was given a great gift in this one single person. 

How to go on….

Time moves differently for me now.  I seem to, for the first time in my life, grasp the passing of time. These few days in middle July are so cold and challenging.  I can’t get warm even with layers on.  This is another one of those weeks in which much has to be achieved.  Today being 18th July I have more documents to sign.  I feel like those Internet (apps) downloads which connects but says “download pending”. Everything in my life at this point in time is ‘pending’.  Nothing is ‘done’ except my mothers passing, that gives me clarity of thought and with that hopefully a direction.  I search aimlessly through the house for her presence and I need to talk.  I realise now I must have driven my mom bonkers with all my talk.  It is only in this silence that I understand how much I talked. The aloneness is a great burden.  Beth always said: “you will be alright because you have many interests, your embroidery, your Art, and your writing.  And you will have to sustain the house and  that will take effort.”. The thing is Mom…..I have no inclination to do any of the things that held my days together when you were with me. 
Tomorrow being Wednesday I have arranged for the Lapa to be repaired since the thatch is deteriorating and I am so stressed for this days work with people here.   On Thursday I may be able to arrange to have the two large trees properly felled.  The maple tree at the gate was trimmed by the garden services.  Those Mozambicans have absolutely not mercy on nature.  They massacred the limbs of the tree and it hurts to look at it.  I remember the day you so lovingly planted it.  Little did we know it was going to be so massive.  I remember too many things and it hurts all the time.   I try to push the thoughts from my mind and I don’t succeed.  I am slowly buying sand to replace the sand these garden services rake away with vengeance each Monday when they come.  I am letting them not come some Mondays because the property can’t handle it anymore. They have totally denuded the flower beds and the lawn is disappearing.  Anyone reading this blog would say….well change to another services….we all know why one does not easily change such services in South Africa.  They break things and just leave it. 
But….these are trivialities to the crux of my life at present.  It comes back to me the one poem that I remember so absolutely well.  My passion for the Brontës has never faded and I still read Jane Eyre once a year.  Wuthering Heights too. The poem is written by Emily Brontë
The old Stoic.

Riches I hold in light esteem;
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn: 

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, ‘Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty! ‘ 

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,
‘Tis all that I implore;
In life and death, a chainless soul,
With courage to endure. 

will I continue to have the courage to endure?

12th July and new reality

It is still dark and the dawn hasn’t broken yet.  I had almost no sleep and when I did doze a person who once brought me so much pain resurfaced in a memory and that is always a bad omen…. Always has been and always will be.  You know how it is when you dream about a certain thing or being.? Their presence in your subconscious portents difficulties.  I don’t need difficulties today since the Legal person has to come and deal with my beloved mothers will.  I am so utterly tense it feels as though I can’t breathe because I know here comes timeous efforts, tedious procedures and high cost.  And there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop this or make it better or easier.
Yesterday the local newspaper was as depressing as any tabloid can get.  The local paper, ‘The Randf****** Her****’ does not even try for sensationalism….just plain hard core depressing facts which happens in this place we call home.  I felt physically ill when I read of other peoples realities….well I could not read it all or I would be more frozen with fear than I already am. 
Beth always encouraged me to do a cleansing once she was no longer with me.  I think she knew that for me reorganising things is therapeutic.  By a ‘cleansing’ she meant…do away.  She always said “you cannot use everything at the same time….you can only wear one article of clothing at the same time…this (and her hand would wave around) is worldly stuff….move it along”. So I did move stuff along ….serving dishes one no longer can serve food in or never did.  Twenty and thirty years ago food was in far more abundance than now.  It was okay to do this task. There were no memories attached to any of the things. It will be interesting to see how the recipients to these grand dishes respond.
I have a prayer for today before the sun rises and I must meet with my reality of today:
Heavenly Father…You know my comings and goings,
my fears and longings,
You know the anguish I experience from time to time
let the Holy Spirit be with me today as I face this reality
of Beth’s will and the procedures.
I need Your hand upon me….I need her presence with me
And I ask that St Michael guard me from all negativity.

Missing her….


It has been a week and a bit that I have lived the days and nights without caring for my beloved Mom. I am aware that people will say I ought to be more mature and handle this with the aspect of reality that it deserves.  I am not so naive as to think and have known that my mom would never pass on. We both spoke about it.  BUT….BUT it was the way in which everything fell into place and the aftermath of the whole scenario.  That is the crux. I was not prepared for it…I honestly thought she might pull back from this.

The emptiness in the house is like a grand canyon chasm.  The silence is deafening.  I am lost without the routine of caring for her.  The isolation and aloneness is making me physically ill.  The phone remains silent, the people who rallied around me are drifting away.  I do not blame them for this is not their journey, and I shall always be grateful to them for being the support that I so desperately needed. Weekends are the worst and that is for sure.  But perhaps this week will be better since I am returning to teaching again and that will give purpose to the days. In the meanwhile I drift from small task to small task. Her estate has still to be administered and that is a painful journey no matter how long or short it takes.

God my Father….only you can look and see into my heart.
Only you can see the anxiety that lurks there
Only you can read the troubled thoughts that invade my mind.
Only you can gauge the panic with which I face each new day
without my source of inspiration and communication.
I ask for mercy in this reality of coping with hours
of worrying about safety and trying to be as secure as possible.
I am grateful for being able to come to you in prayer…..
Please help me cope.