A story about what happens when life makes MarillaAnne sad.

I'm not just physically tired. I'm tired down in my soul tired.

I am discovering that when I lose people out of my life ... on the aniversary of the latest loss ... i review all of the losses.

I did not know AT & BJ ... when I first heard of their story, I knew I was in no shape to go look. Not now. I couldn't watch it not go well. Maybe later I'd go look ... when BJ got better.

I felt it coming on as we finalized the the PeaPod order last night. I felt blind-sided when I read about AT over on TheOddMix. I felt befuddled after stopping in the market for an onion and an apple and a loaf of bread ... sitting in the coffee shop ... trying to write ... sipping my orange tea ... watching the clock.

BJ didn't get better. Our Thanksgiving turkey arrived in our PeaPod order tonight. Billy made the first batch of cornbread and we snuck a piece of pumkin pie. Billy attempted roasted chestnuts ... and then decided to go Google "roasting chestnuts" ... after an explosion nailed him in the belly and dog hid in the bedroom with me.

Still I couldn't write ... I went and read awhile -- AT's story. I knew better. I knew it would only take me out where my raw edges live. The problem is this ...

I have a 22 23 yr old daughter.
My oldest brother had a 22 23 yr old son.
My daughter and my nephew were
born two days apart.
He came first.

Thanksgiving day was the beginning of
my daughter's glory as a keeper of family-feast traditions
even though she is far from the family nucleus.

Thanksgiving was my nephew's first day
in the presence of our Father's glory ...
far from the family nucleus.

It takes me, still, a long time to let those words out and
I cannot let them out in one blunt sentence ..
I need a cushion for them ...
I still cannot just say:
My nephew died on Thanksgiving.
I may never be able to.

I just need to talk about it a minute. I miss him. I miss the rest of his family, too. They are on their own journey of grief. If I went back home for Thanksgiving, they wouldn't be there. It's too hard. They are going to go somewhere else. Christmas isn't even being talked about.

We are going to go visit in the summer. Shh don't tell them ... they don't know this ... summer and fireworks and my nephew ... it was good times. I will just stay away from the glow of the fireworks. But I will grin about the times we had at the lake ... he and my kids ... grown kids ... especially that big grown husband kid...

I tried again to meet my writing objective ... but I recognized an old battle. This is an attempt at a compromize. The battle is this. If I refuse to write about the loss of my nephew, my writing voice will not write about anything else.

Grief is kind of demanding like that. It seems to demand that we stop and remember. I think what we remember gets to be more and more of a choice as we move along. Still it's damn nerve-y of it to just come along and suck the breathe outta ya any time it pleases.

AT is kind of in a stale mate with his grief. It will carry him through for a little.

I have to push submit. I have to sleep.

Mr.OddMix, I have not forgotten my other objectives. Hang in there.

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