Like to apologize to my faithful readers for all the nuttiness going on here recently (as in mood swings. . . .).

I lost my father in my twenties, a brother and a baby in my thirties, my mother in my fifties. Plus, along the way friends, lovers, marriages.

I thought I was an old and practiced hand at mourning. That I knew the steps, and just had to take them. . . .

And I have been feeling better. Some days, and for days at a time, feeling actually really good: hopeful, happy, even joyous.

Christmas day was a gift from the universe: mended 2 broken relationships, got signals for a new one, nothing happened to the car (which I've been worried about), had a glorious time with my grandbabies, and Stevie didn't sulk when I got home. The whole day I felt Edwin close beside me, approving, laughing.

And then bam! Lizard belly in deep mud day. The ache making bones burn, charring heart and soul.

I can only conclude that recovery is uneven. . . .