Disappearing Acts…

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So, I mean to blog.  I really do.  Every morning, I think about how I’m going to do it; I’m going to finally get caught up.  And maybe Robbie even does something blog-worthy.  But then, the end of the day comes and I’m just too tired to do it.  To emotionally drained to function and be able to share anything with anyone.  And then I go to bed, only to get up and do it all again the next day.

I know it gets easier.  And, to some extent, it is.  I can wake up in the morning and get through parts of the day without thinking about how difficult the past four weeks have been.  Exactly four weeks, actually.  But then something happens.  And I cry.  Or Justin goes quiet (his equivalent of crying, most days).

Maybe I find a receipt.  Or think about what we were doing this time last year.  Or Robbie does something that I wish I could call her about, even though that’s not something I usually did.  And then I get upset because I’ll never have the opportunity to do it.

Today was all of those rolled up into one.  Justin and I traveled to Murray, Kentucky, this afternoon (following a four-hour SCREENING interview – holy cow! – in Louisville).  We stopped at the bank where Augusta had a safe deposit box, which we still can’t access.  And all we wanted to do was call her to see if we were wasting our time.  We still don’t know if there is even anything in there.  Or when we went through her storage unit and Justin finally found her jewelry box.  The one he spent hours looking for over the summer.  But we couldn’t tell her.

I know that it will get easier.  It has to.  But I think even the getting easier will be so difficult.  If that even makes sense.  And now, as a first step forward, let me relive the past week of my life.  After all, it was Christmas, something we will most certainly want to remember.

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