That's no fair, David. Fucking universe. I'm glad you got to see your sister, though. I'm so sorry.

{{{{{David}}}}}

Oh David. I am so sorry.

I’m sorry you have to deal with another loss so soon.

20 days.

I am sorry, David. My condolences.

I wish there was a way to bubble wrap you and yours from any death or illness or terrible things happening for a while. A decade. Five years. A year. This is all too much.

Instead of that bubble wrap, I'm sending my love. You are in my thoughts. May you get a fucking break. I am so sorry.

Oh, David, I'm so sorry for your loss.

And I'm sorry for the oh-so-difficult day you've had, taking more difficult steps in that oh-so-difficult road, and for Matilda having to fo through it (even if it's alongside you, so at least she gets your support). I'm just so sorry.

I wish I had more words to add, good words.

Well, no, I wish for other things, impossible things, but I know they are impossible, and I have to pretend that I'm an adult, so I won't write out loud the fairy-tales wishes that I know can't come true.

And I can't even wish for you to feel better, not now, not while you're still going through all of it, because all you've been through, especially during the last few weeks, but actually for almost ten months now, is just the kind of things that make you feel the opposite of "better".

But this post is not about me and what I'm confused about wishing, so I'll stop now. Take care.

(This goes to all of you - I've been trying to play catch-up, and I'm still in the "been trying" phase of it, but my not-posting is not not-being-here. This lurker supports you in, well, not even e-mail, or anything that happens outside of her own head, but still.)

Sometimes I think that we should go to therapy when nothing is wrong, so that the therapist has a baseline for who you are and how you cope. Most of us go when we are at our wit's end and don't show our real/best selves.

I didn't go to therapy after I lost my dad. I wondered if I should, but decided I was okay. When my mother told my brother that she thought I wasn't processing my grief (which she never saw because she always had to be the most upset person in the room, so I didn't get to grieve around or with her), I suggested that my brother tell her that I was scared to go to therapy by myself and wanted to go as a family. My mother DEFINITELY needed/s therapy and I thought that it was a sneaky way to get her there, and it couldn't hurt for me. Of course, since she was trying to start shit with my brother by implying to my brother that I wasn't sad about losing my father, she dropped her concern very quickly.

I suggested that my brother tell her that I was scared to go to therapy by myself and wanted to go as a family. My mother DEFINITELY needed/s therapy and I thought that it was a sneaky way to get her there, and it couldn't hurt for me.

That is such a smart move. And I'm sorry you had to think of one.

Coffee and double posting:

There's apparently a protest later today, very close to me, against a Kahanistic MK who will be in the area at that time.

I don't want to go but I'm also writing this here to make myself go because vita activa and all that. Arggg.

I wish I had more words to add, good words.

You've given me lots of good words. I'm seeing if we can get some of your words into Jacqueline's service.

Sometimes I think that we should go to therapy when nothing is wrong, so that the therapist has a baseline for who you are and how you cope.

That seems very sensible.

I dealt with last night with cocktails and nachos and distracting videos.

Talked to Emmett on the phone and cried.

Had another long call with a friend and threw in some choked sobs, but also, just conversation about grief and cancer care during marriage.

I've run every day since I got back from Georgia, trying to maintain a groove and get back into shape after 8 months of airport food. But I'm taking a break this morning.