A nickel a day...

If I had a nickel for every time I had someone tell me, "Don't worry, Holly, time heals all wounds". Really? What about cancer? Or HIV? Time just seems to make them worse.

I have decided that when it comes to grieving, time doesn't heal anything, it only makes it easier to talk about. I really think that a person just runs out of tears, as I seen in the last few days. The sadness is sitting there like a rock in the pit of my stomach, but I just can't release those tiny water droplets. It is like those little carousels at grocery stores that you put a quarter into and to keep going around (in endless circle, mind you) you have to insert another quarter. The only problem is that you used all of your quarters paying for the milk inside the grocery store because it has become like a liquid gold these days. God only gives you so many tears per incident, and if you have no more quarters...well tough luck.

It is the little things that you start to notice when time has literally stopped, like not being able to shed tears, people tiptoeing around you like they are walking in a museum and if they speak too loudly they may shatter the Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa, made of thick canvas and gooey paint, sits on her perch and smiles at you...reminds me of work.

I passed a fire station today and thought about the time that you told me that instead of going to college that you were going to become a fire women. You thought it was just so cool that they got free food and a free place to live. It wasn't until, after laughing heartily, that I had to explain to you that they only stayed at the station when they were on duty and that on average (for our region of life) they only made about $8.00 an hour. Hardly enough for your champagne taste. I also remember telling you that money wasn't important and that being a fire fighter was a noble and respectable job, but very dangerous. You would have made a terrible fire fighter, by the way, but I would have loved to see you try.

You are loved.
Holly