Well, it seems that there was good reason for my hesitation for publicizing my want to embrace another beginning. Why am I not surprised?
Shortly after coming home from YaYa’s game, I could feel a funk rolling in. I ignored it and pushed out a short but hard run. A trip through McD’s drive thru would serve to counteract any good that would come from my efforts. But I didn’t seem to care.
When we returned home I remained in my car parked in the garage while listening to a song. I then listened to another, and another, and another until I was sitting in total darkness. At this point, the feeling of apathy was so subtle that I didn’t think much of it. I just went with it.
I finally went into the house after talking to Lil Sis on the phone. Soon, I was in bed with my computer on my lap for some blogging time. A couple of hours later, I opened my eyes, closed my laptop, and turned off the lights.
It wasn’t until this morning, when I found myself unwilling to jump out of bed when the alarm sounded. I lay in bed with the want to sleep the day away trying to take hold. My fight against this feeling was weak. If there was ever a day to get out of bed quickly, today was it.
One look at the calendar would reveal two things:
- An 8 am meeting was compelling. Apathy reasoned that I could technically remain in bed for another hour and still be able to get to work on time. Bad hair day and no make up would surely be a part of this.
- Another cycle would soon be upon me. At least that was what I though the timing was.
For the majority of today, I had February 27th, 2007 in my mind as the day the tumors were discovered. I figured the approaching date was enough to bring on the funk — even though I sort of thought this year would be different. I turned to my blog after someone asked for a detail that I wasn’t exactly sure about. This was when I realized that I had committed the wrong date to memory.
To be exact, the stroke which sent us to the ER (for the 2nd time in a matter of days) occurred at 9:45 pm on February 25th. It’s kind of funny — the time, I mean. The last thing that I remember doing before I went unconscious was leaving a comment on Brit’s blog post where she describes how she marked the 1 year milestone since her friend, Erik’s passing. That comment, was left around the 9:30 pm.
I remember reading her post, crying when I got to the part about his wife and the daughter who will never really know her dad, feebly leaving leaving a comment that did not even touch upon what I really wanted to say — because I simply could not find the words.
