Home bitter sweet home

Last week was OK.  Didn't enjoy it as much as I used to when I traveled.  Kept waiting for the phone to ring or rather, kept wishing the phone would ring.  Away from family and doggies I'm rather at a loss for feeling comfy.  Not sure I'd be a good consultant.

Of course I had to call Danny every day sometimes two or three text messages.  Don't want him to forget his momma!   Called my hubby to say good night every night.

I had a dream with Mary in it last weekend.  I woke up and remember every detail so I wouldn't forget it later.  It wasn't about her but she was my companion on my adventure in the dream.  Just like she was in years gone by.  It's fading a little now.  This is the 2nd dream in the last month.  Don't remember it at all but I know I dreamed about her.  I don't have many.  I remember the one 6 -7 months ago oddly.  And then there were one or two the year before.  I want so badly to dream more about her.  I talk to her just like she's sitting in front of me.
 
Sometimes, at odd moments, I get a vision of the crime scene and I cringe and all the horrible feelings come back.  Last week I was telling someone about my children.  Everyone always asks you "how many kids do you have" when you first meet them.  I literally steeled myself to answer without crying because I knew I would.  I talked very slowly and didn't dwell on details.  I still can't talk past describing Mary without falling apart.

Still waiting to hear from Emory about Danny's antibodies.  I will call tomorrow if they don't call me by the afternoon.  Another person got a heart yesterday.  No one on 1A with type A blood so another heart passed him by.  Guess I'm just jealous.  Makes me feel like I'm waiting on a side of beef.  And, THAT makes me feel like trash. 

This last weekend I did nothing.  I didn't play in my art either.  Just didn't have any incentive.  Not sure why. Maybe I was just tired.

Still trying to figure out if I feel better now that the #*&^#% that killed Mary is behind bars.  Not yet.  Not yet.  Don't know if it will ever be.  He'll be out in two years and I'll be pissed again.