…but I am, in fact, THIS mad. And isn’t about what I want. Not anymore. Because what I want isn’t here anymore. All that is left is just how I feel. And there is very little control over a feel. Y’all know this. So, I am THIS mad. I am. And the … Continue reading
Posted in August 2017 …
Southern Sad
Being Southern makes grieving a whole lot harder. Grief isn’t nice. Grieving is so not nice. Those of us reared down in the Deep do things because we know we should, because we were taught we should. Those of us reared down here know not do other things because we were taught we … Continue reading
Two Months
Two months ago, you breathed. And then, two months ago, you didn’t. In the last two months, I’ve gone to bed zero times and woken up one time and you were breathing. In the last two months, I have gone to bed 60 times and woken up 61 times and you weren’t breathing. … Continue reading
Do You Regret It?
Do you regret that decision you made? I hope you do. I have to believe you do. Because there is no way my mind can conceive that if you had thought, really thought, for just a split second that leaving equalled you missing today–today and all of the other todays–that you wouldn’t have made a … Continue reading
Precautions
Last week, I Googled: “going back to work while you are grieving and you are a judge.” Sunday morning, I Googled: “going back to church when you are grieving.” Neither efforts garnered any results. Thus, this post. This is the thing I’m learning. It all sucks. When you go through your thing, you begin to … Continue reading
Find Your Tribe
It doesn’t matter than they don’t know exactly how I feel. What matters is they know me. What matters is, they have known me forever, and they know me better than I know me. They have been through the door for so long, they know they never have to knock. What matters is, even if … Continue reading
You Stole My Football
You made a bad call. Every ref in every sport everywhere in the world should be throwing a flag. The air should be full of nothing but whistles. Roughing the passer—barely a shove. Facemask—child’s play. Late hit—just a tap. Your call was the crappiest call of all crappy calls. And you should know. You could … Continue reading
The Door
I have never hated an inanimate object before. But I hate one now. I hate a door. It is a door to my courtroom. There are 4 of them, but I only hate one. One entrance to the court is a set of 2 doors in the front of my courtroom through which the general … Continue reading
Groundhog Day
So, for six weeks and three days, when I wake up, the first thing I think is, “My daddy is still not here.” And then…where the hell is he? And then…when is he coming back? Every. Single. Morning. I am living Groundhog Day, the movie with Bill Murray. If I had an alarm clock, this … Continue reading
What I Remember
You may want to read “Why It is uglyreal…” before you read this post, and then decide if you want to continue. ____________________________________________________________________________________________ Window in the door to the left of my bench at the court. Susan’s face. Door opening. Kim Henderson beside Susan. The chair underneath me. My legs underneath the bench. My hands … Continue reading
uglyreal 