Second Culling

 

Saturday morning. It’s quiet here at the shack beside the track at five in the morning. I’ve been up since half past two. Just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. What the heck. Time is just time anymore. What I have of time is mine for the most part. I am no longer on the treadmill. What a joy! I’ll catch myself a nice siesta after lunch.

My fam next door has gone up to the camp for the weekend. I was invited but declined. I would have really enjoyed the company. My fam and I have grown really close since Shirli died. Oh no. It’s not a biological connection. It’s not genetic. It’s a heart connection. I need my fam and my fam needs me.

My biological family? I have two siblings left. Two sisters. I love them. And they love me. There are nieces and nephews and grand nieces and grand nephews. But there is very little interaction or communication where this familial group is concerned. Honestly. I’m more than a little put-out with them. The same can be said about all my cousins, except one on my dad’s side. It just baffles me that after Shirli died not one of them bothered to call or text to inquire how I was doing. Not one “sympathy” card from any of them. Ha. That’s really strange.

Thinking back, I can see now how this inconsiderate neglect on their part … something that quite honestly deeply hurt my already bludgeoned emotions … added to the already all-too-deep and all-too-dark hole of grief that I had entered into. Hell upon hell. And there was a third well-intentioned hell that factored itself in. Hell upon hell upon hell. That third hell? I am still affected by its effects. The scalding from the heat of the third hell left a bitterness within me. I don’t like to feel bitterness toward anyone. Yet, I do feel bitterness toward the perpetrators of the abuse that was emotionally leveraged against me. Yeah. That was a rough one.

I have begun working on the “second culling”. The “first culling” was made back in January. You know. Shirli’s clothes and certain other things that I needed to depart with. That was tough. This second culling is tough too. Every drawer and behind every door. Just what do I really need to keep? It’s crazy as hell how every single little thing has emotional attachments associated with it. Things that I have to touch and hold. Things that Shirli touched and held.

My range of emotions is somewhat different now though.

I find myself diving deeply into a sea of appreciation and thanksgiving for the wonderful years of life and love that Shirli and I shared together. Yes. I miss Shirli. I suppose I will always miss Shirli. How can I not? It’s been a good long while now since I last had a fall-apart and the mournful, sorrowful sadness is gone. 

Life is getting really interesting. Life is getting really good.