Dear Friday {Life Goes On}

Dear Friday, 

Where do I start?  

(sigh)

I don't know what's wrong with me, I hear this blog calling me and I have things to say but there's some defiant little self-sabotaging brat that keeps coming along and kicking me in the literary shins. 

I'm not any closer to choosing a new direction.  

I have this tick-tock calling of something (what?!)

something new that keeps nagging at me. 

I wake up dreaming of a life other than the one I'm living in...

But I'm in the life that I'm in right now, 

in the time that I'm in right now, 

in the place that I'm in right now

for a reason right now. 

Trust the journey. Isn't that what they say? 

(Who the heck are they anyways?)

Earlier this week, I googled "the best decision I've ever made"  and it gave me this answer.  A literary spunkarella that drew me in with her creative prowess.  Hooked.  I emailed her. I know she's part of my journey somehow. 
What did I tell her?  That I feel like I'm not even at a fork in the road.  I'm at a 20-lane intersection, clear of traffic, and green lights in all directions.  Standing there, directionless, the world at my feet but with an uncalibrated compass in one hand  and the map from the glove box of the Griswold family station wagon in the other. 
I feel like there's no cohesion, no lines, no boundaries,  and the expectations are blurry.  Yeah. Blurry.  I'm having a hard time focusing. 
Even now, it's not even Friday still in some parts of the country.  Hell for that matter, in some parts of the country there aren't even lights or heat or comfort.  I can't even get the Dear Friday letter in on time. 
Those are my thoughts, but what's happening in my life?  Well, one thing that is most than and more than worthy of mentioning. I've written about it before, but I thought I'd have more time to prepare my thoughts. 


LAST Friday, when I was going to reintroduce myself to this weekly,  a text message pulled/ripped/yanked me out of bed after just one hour of sleep.
Uncle Mickey passed away at 827 this morning. 
Whaaat?!  They said 3-6 months. We had what? 8 weeks?  He was just at lunch yesterday. I didn't go.  I thought I could just see him the coming weekend.  I called him the afternoon before to tell him that I'd see him soon.  He didn't answer.  The events of that day are imprinted on my mind and in my heart.  The scene that replayed itself every time another family member arrived to say their goodbye.  That's a blog with a it's very own blood shot, tear stained, big & beating emotional heart. 

In my family, we have a strong Christian faith.   We believe in the Lord God and in eternal life.  We mourn for our missing of one of the best  brothers, uncles, fathers, friends you could imagine  but we don't fall into sorrow worrying about his soul.  We prayed he would go before the pain set in and made his last days agonizing. Our prayers were answered.  It was quick and merciful. 
So...death is a part of life.  And life goes on. 
My week went on this week. Uncle Mick was one of my biggest cheerleaders,  so I didn't let him down. I did my monthly run, a 5K at Folsom Lake.  My first significant activity on my bum knee.  I made it - wet, sandy, muddy, slow, and lopsided, but I made it  and earned my favorite finisher's medal to date.

Wednesday was Halloween, I busted out a creative makeup muscle ...and I handed out 1,000 coloring books, 1,400 balloons,  and buckets of candy downtown.

Then I got a pretty rad, awesome, compliment yesterday.  Yeah, I said rad and I said awesome! Psyche!

Next Friday is the service. Next Friday may or may not be an entirely different blog.  However, next Friday will be further proof that life just goes on. 
Til then...