I don't know what happened to the first part of May. I recall carrying 50 bags of mulch down a hill and 50 more here and there, but as I look out my window I am almost immobilized by the work I know that's out there this time of year.
I've had my vegetable garden in since late April and the perennial beds look good. I just haven't gotten around to throwing out the flower seed for my annual display of zinneas & cosmos because the beds are not ready.
Eric's death still is very surreal to me. Seeing him wasn't an everyday thing like it was for his family and friends. It was the special occasions to visit the big family that made our trips up to Cleveland seem like a family vacation and Eric was part of the experience. He was part of that anticipation.
We did manage to attend the Mother's Day Indian's game in Cleveland with the big family a weekend after the funeral. Everyone was there. Except Eric. We got through it. We managed. I guess we were grateful to be together even though our hearts are still breaking over his death.
Elisabeth's prom at McAuley was fun. It helped get my mind off Eric until I heard a parent talking about his 20 year old son at college. It seems like every person I've met since Eric died has a 20 year old son in college.
So naturally, when I start hearing these stories, I think about my brother and his family and wonder how they are coping for that minute. Are they finding light at the end of that grief tunnel?
I wonder if the person with whom I am talking ever thought that their son would die from injuries after falling 4 floors?
I am learning how to pray. I am learning how to connect again.
I have a few other things on my mind, too. I want to get a conversion mini-van to transport Elisabeth and her chair without having to rely on lifting her or her chair into the car. I am counting the days until I can leave the house without ever lifting her wheelchair in the car.
One - two - three. It could be weeks or months.
The vans are expensive. It's well over $40,000 for a decent one but I'm told not to worry by a soft spoken well-meaning sale person because I can pay it back over ten years. I hear that it's a special deal they have for people who need wheelchair accessible vans. I don't get it. Am I suppose to feel relieved by paying 9% in interest over ten years?
Tomorrow, I'm going in for tests that every 51 year old woman goes through when she's told she has an enlarged ovary and is overdue for a mammogram. I google "enlarged ovary" every now and then to check in and decide its a coin toss. Just like falling out a window.
Last week, I spent time searching for pictures of Eric that do not remind me of his death. Pictures that remind me of a time when I was motivated to throw my flower seeds in flower beds that I prepared each year. A time in my life when I wasn't worried about mammograms, ultrasounds, or putting a wheelchair in car.