Sunday Nights

I just realized why Sunday nights are so much harder.

Bette died on a Sunday...

Every Sunday as I am getting ready for bed or trying to drift off to sleep the memory of seeing the Police Officers coming up the steps and onto the deck is replayed in my mind. I had seen too many movies and TV shows to not know what it meant. In the war movies it was your son or husband was killed, in the cop shows it signified your spouse had died. So before they even uttered a word I knew what they were going to say. They were great. They made sure I was not going to be alone. It must not be easy for them either.

Then that memory dredges up all the feelings all over again - like pouring gasoline on a smoldering fire. The feelings are immediate, intense and raw.

I don't want to sound like a broken record but I have to thank everyone that has been helping me through this difficult time. I want to wish you all a long, happy, and healthy life. Good night and sweet dreams...

until my next posting,

Jaime