letting go


I miss my life. Not the big things like walking and driving a car.  But all the little things, like being able to lean over and  pick up a pen, like going to see the sunset by the lake, like watering plants when they get dry.  And I miss them each one.

I guess this is the "letting go." It is more of a process than an event. I find that is true of many things in my life, now and before I was sick. So I am letting go as best I can.

Sometimes I cry, sometimes not.

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