I forgot what it was like.

I forgot what it was like to live without the feeling of desperation. To come home at the end of the day and fix a little food, do a few chores and be content to breath in and out.

It is down right shocking to feel like suddenly the past few years never happened.

I have always been comfortable alone with my to do list. I liked the comfort of getting things in order and seeing a finished product. I became someone else in my grief.

I spent the past two days alone working on my house. I can see what I couldn't before. The cobwebs for one the dirt and the neglect of years of living in desperation and sadness. This weekend I didn't once feel alone or lonely. I am feeling strong and able to cope with everyday life.

I thought for a moment. Why does this take so long for you to grieve? I thought maybe it is genetic. When my mother died my grandmother cried for three years. Her baby daughter had died and her dream had been shattered. Who would take care of her? The death of the dream her dream.

One day she stopped crying and got on with her life. She took care of herself. She went on with her broken dream and lived another 15 years.

After I cleaned out the cobwebs literally I painted my bedroom the most awesome saturated teal blue. My long illness is over an I needed a new space. The millions of hours or desperation painted away.

I guess it takes as long as it takes.