Get up. Take a shower.

Pack Decky a lunch. Drop Decky off at school. Clean the bathrooms in the basement. Clean the woodwork, tape the trim and paint the upstairs walls. Make an appointment for the doctor. Take the shampooer back in to be repaired again. Get the car oil changed again, and have them check out that bad rim. Take the car into Best Buy to fix the stereo. Make chicken tortilla soup. Schedule the Salvation Army bell ringing date. Make appointment for Bill with the GI guy. Write thank you cards. Pick Decky up from school.

I made the mistake of making a good day my goal. I have since revised that goal: I hope for a good hour, then maybe two. Much more attainable, more successes. So far, it’s helping.

I’m staying busy. Doing the work. My eye is back to normal – no more drops. My shoulder and neck are less sore. I sleep through the night now.
I break down. I stare into space and forget what I’m doing. I alternately feel numb and acutely hypersensitive. I get lots of hugs from Bill. I stick around my house.

I noticed I felt better after putting up a few pictures of Dad. I have one of Dad, Bill, Decky and Owen at the Cubs/Royals game last year on my bed table. I have that nice one of Dad in the Ozarks on the kitchen wall. I don’t sit and stare at them, but I can glance up when I need to.

I still think this all can’t be happening. I shake my head to clear it. No. That can’t be right.
But it is. It’s happening. And all I can really do is keep busy.