Let Me Ride On The Wall of Death One More Time

 Entry 1    1:15 p.m.

Abby and I did some grocery shopping last night, and I decided to buy a small cake to celebrate her birthday. I broke down and started crying as soon as the cake was in the cart. I had a hard time pulling myself together. Abby put her arm around me, and comforted me. I probably cried for 2 minutes, tears streaming down my face, my suffering otherwise silent.  I hate this existence, and am grateful for my children. I keep expecting a tsunami of pain. Instead, it is more insipid, this loss, like a slow leak from a third floor bathroom that eventually destroys the foundation. Every once in a while, though, a burst or two sneaks out, a foreboding of what I expect is to come? I don't know. Some days I convince myself I am numb, or not experiencing the pain I expected. Truth be told, I have no fucking idea what to expect. Right now I just feel heavy and sad all over. I hate it, but its  true. I feel about as useful as a ballot mailed the day after the election.

Jenny's elaborate cakes for the kids were unparalleled. She was peerless in the art of home cake making, in both design and decorating. And, here I was buying a cheap Fred Meyer bakery cake. Sigh. I a so lacking. 

From Jenny's Facebook gallery of the cakes she made.

We put the cake on the counter and lit it there and stood as we sang Happy Birthday to Abby. No decorations, no cards, no gifts. No eating at the table. To be fair, we are having a family birthday party Sunday at 1, but this felt so terrible and missing the sine qua non piece. Yet there we stood, a family fully assembled.

Leiney is at work, Abby school. I am off to entertain a demanding one year old dog.

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