That dead feeling...

...when the Black Dog comes visiting. This is #2 daughter's Valentine rose from her boyfriend, which I blipped on that day. Although she lost interest in it as soon as it started to fade, I couldn't bear to throw it out.

I seem to be struggling all the time just to keep things the same, as that represents security for me. At the same time I know that to be impossible, and to be happy I should embrace change and be thankful for all the positive things in my life. On BD days I miss those babies I raised and who now see me as a flawed and unfulfilled person rather than the source of absolute safety and wisdom. I mourn each plant that dies or each cup that breaks if it reminded me of a happy or significant past event. I think of all the plans I had in my youth, that music or book I was going to write, that wonderful talent I was going to discover and nurture. My joy in my pets is tinged with the grief which will come when it is their time to die, all too soon. Most of all I fear I will leave nothing behind of any worth when it is my time too to go.

Sorry for being so maudlin today guys. Ignore me, it will pass.