Tony and I went away for a week, camping in our little trailer, hiking daily, sitting at the river's edge thinking or playing guitar and ukelele.
I thought I might do a lot of journaling, but I ended up doing a lot of thinking.
I did solidify my plans for the future.
We also realized we are not really sure where we want to be next year. The problem always comes down to the fact that we are trying to solve a problem we cannot solve. We really want to live somewhere with Lev, and that's not possible, so any other option seems sub-standard.
I look at the world, and just think of all the things that Lev is missing out on.
I'm not sure what or where might make that better, but it does feel good to be out in the open, hiking, looking at the mountains, just being with the loss,the sadness.
It will be nine months tomorrow, the same time it takes to grow a new life. It seems like no time at all on the one hand, and on the other it seems a dreadfully long time ago that life felt right.
Sunday:
We got home on Saturday night, and the arrival was quite difficult. Our wonderful neighbors had mowed our lawn and taken care of our cat and home, yet our house was empty, no Lev. It has been a hard day. I'm not sure how we make it through the days, except by basic instincts for survival, I suppose. That, and some hot soup and a bloody Mary.
