and the journey continues…

A day free from pain, a sky so cerulean blue that it begs for my gaze. Blue tinged butterflies, landing on the rail, a dog and cat playing in their own private jungle, leaves crunching as they attack and retreat. As the unseasonably warm autumn sun shines down on my face, my thoughts stray to a floor that needs scrubbing. Wondering if I can scrub away the thoughts of death. Wondering if death will rob two little girls of their mother, of a tough as nails new bride of her husband, like it robbed me of mine. I tell them both to be tough, as I think to myself "why couldn’t you have been a bit tougher", and he mocks me with his words of "if you loved me, you’d let me go". I argue that our love should have been enough, and he responds with "ask them all after 18 years if they can continue to be tough," and that leaves me sad, but with no retort. And I remember that pain has many forms. While the physical pain is gone, a wider, deeper, truer pain is still lurking in the shadows. Stealing silently my joy, under a cerulean sky, as a cat and dog play, and I have a conversation with a dead man