My tax person, whom I have known most of my life because she and her family went to the same church I attended as a child, lost her husband suddenly when her boys were relatively young.
She told me last week, "This is numb week. Next week will be paperwork week."
Okay, this week is also numb week for me, most likely because Rocky had a breakdown and had to be hospitalized over the weekend, so I still haven't really faced my sadness. About eight last night, I noticed my legs were shaky, I felt weak, and I was having serious anxiety issues. I started to think I was having a heart attack, too.
Then, of course, I couldn't get to sleep last night, and at five thirty this morning, Penny alerted to something, so I got up and turned on the outside lights, most likely to only ward off the doe and her fawns who had come up to the house to graze on my grandmother's hostas.
Today I have a few hours of work, another funeral, Nita's open house at school. What I really want to do is to crawl into bed and just curl up in the fetal position. My sister said, "Luckily, we are at an age where our bladders demand attention in the morning, and by the time we take care of that, we are already up." Between that and the dogs' bladders, and the chickens needing to be let out, I have some momentum at the start of each day.
How long it lasts will be another story.