Foggy, With a Chance of Sorrow

Photo by Ralph Eldridge

This morning I'd planned on blogging about something fun.

The Vintage Camper Museum we'd visited last week, the homemade crackers I made this weekend, garden plans, pie crusts, or something similarly riveting.

But I can't.

It's March 8th.

Last night right before I slipped into sleep, March 7th caught up with me.

It caught up with me in a way that made my heart crack open like someone cracking open a lobster, carelessly, just wanting what was inside.

Burning tears stung my eyes, my cheeks, my pillow. I wept silently, aching.

I slept.

This morning, I woke up at 4am, still with a lump in my throat, I didn't get up with Glenco. I told myself I needed a little extra rest, so I wouldn't catch the cold that he and Aaron had last week. He assured me the same. "Get some more rest, Jayme".

I wanted to rest.

I wanted to stay in bed all day.

I wanted life to stop.

I felt guilty that the chickens were still locked up, the cats were hungry and the rabbit surely needed water. I decided that none of them would die if I stayed in bed another hour.

When daylight streamed in, I sat up and looked out. The fog was so thick I could barely see the chicken coop. It felt it perfect for my mood. It was 6:15. School starts in two hours. I wish I could call a fog delay. Another hour passed, and finally my bladder and bursitis teamed up and forced me out of bed.

By now I'm sure you are wondering what in the world I'm talking about.

March 7th is my parent's wedding anniversary.

Why I find it so upsetting, eight years after their death, is still a mystery to me.

There are unanswered questions, and no one to answer them.

Last night, as I was lying in bed, I kept thinking that 62 years ago, my parents had married.

It was their wedding night.

Were they happy?

Were they in love?

What plans did they have for the future?

It tore me apart.

I know some things that I wish I didn't know.

It's cracked my fairy tale childhood.

I fell asleep last night, assuring myself that they were madly in love, and happy, and glad to be married.

I had to.

This morning, a fog of sadness is surrounding me.

What if?

What if they weren't happy?

What if my mom was sad and unfulfilled?

What if my dad never realized his dreams?

All I can do to try and fix my heart at the moment is to try and realize my own dreams, and make my own happiness.

Today is March 8th, anyway.

I can't afford the luxury of sadness, and sleeping and moping.

I have to teach Aaron about the hydrosphere today.

I have 79 emails to return.

It's laundry day.

Life marches on.

I just want everyone to be happy.