Blue

That's how I am feeling. I was in a funk on Friday night in the airport in Houston. Blue, I still am. I was feeling sorry for myself (that's how it always is right?), for the loss of my best friend. So I decided to cheer myself up. I called Princess.

Princess was less than talkative. She was busy doing things around the house, her answers to my questions were short or one worded. No luck there.

So I called my sister Christy. She was busy, preoccupied working on a template, her answers too were short or one worded. Two strikes.

I then called Bert. He always likes to talk, but alas, it was not to be. He was on the other line and asked me if it would be OK if he called me back. I said sure. Well when he called back I was on the plane from Houston to Waco. Three strikes.

I didn't call Rich, he's usually riding his horse or roping or something cowboyish, and Russell works a lot of swing shifts so I didn't call him either. Instead, I sat in the airport with tears escaping down my face wallowing in self pity. It was, I was, pathetic.

Everyone says that the death of a parent is hard, I thought I was prepared. Mom had been so sick and in so much pain that I knew that her passing would be a blessing for her, and for my Dad who had worried so much for her these past five years. I'm not prepared. I made it through the funeral, put on my smile, stopped crying when Dad said to stop, and put on the brave face. I'm still doing that. But it's painful, my Mom is my best friend. We had so much in common, movies, TV, music, books, sense of humor. My brothers and sisters all said I was Mom's favorite. They were wrong, she IS MY FAVORITE! That is the difference.

Oh, I know that I'm whining, full of self pity, and down right wanting, no needing to, requiring that I get through these feelings in my schedule and put my life back on track. Well I can't. I just figured that out this morning at Church. I have to heal. It's gonna be a long road for this Mama's boy.