In mid August, my Father had to go to the hospital, rather suddenly. He was there for seven weeks and during most of that time things were not looking very promising. I was able to take a leave from work and those days were spent (like many I have spent before) going back and forth to visit, and keeping the daily routine limping along. August turned into September and he finally returned home, worse for wear and tired but but relieved to be in familiar surroundings and to be cared for and fed by my Mom and her Dutch cooking.
I returned to work. The days and weeks and months that followed have just sort of bled into each other and suddenly I am seeing Christmas lights and receiving festive cards in the mail box and watching holiday specials on T.V.
It was just a few days ago when I realized, I have not been present at all, and I don't enjoy living life this way. This was the state I was in while my late hubby was going through his lengthy illness. It is a detachment, a disinterest in the activities one normally enjoys, a distance from the friends that I care about and need to spend more time with. It just hit me...didn't even realize that it was creeping in...again.
The few to-do lists I made ended up being coasters for my giant tea cup that reads:
KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON
The big bag of flour that I purchased to take me on a bread baking adventure is sitting in the corner of the kitchen like a neglected orphan. Knitting projects hanging from door knobs, abandoned. Functioning? Yes, but with no zeal, everything I was trying to achieve got about as much enthusiasm as a cat with a dead kitten.
As soon as the problem became clear under the glow of the Christmas lights I decided to get back to reality. Life is a gift, no matter what crappy horrible stuff might be going on. There is hope and joy if one has the tenacity to put one mukluk in front of the other, no matter how deep the snow is.