It’s been six months since we buried my grandmother and in my mind and heart it feels like it was yesterday. I still live next door and on more days than I can count I come home looking for her to be outside watering the plants or sitting on the porch. I see her so vividly rocking her feet, a hat on her head to shield her from the sun.

The vision usually last a second or two before reality hits me. If I’m being honest, things have not been easy since she’s been gone. With her death a certain peace and tranquility I felt when I found myself getting angry or disappointed is now gone.

There are nights I pray, days I pray, that I can get it back. At times I feel myself slipping from reality and those that love me. I find myself isolated and cold, even in a room full of people. My only outlet, my only relief being my writing.

Are these feelings me just stumbling until I get back to the man I was or are they feelings that will just grow over time and take whatever goodness and sanity I have left? We live in a 15 second world. People will give you a day or two to grieve but that’s all you’re going to get. After that they want you to be normal, to do your job.

Sleep has become a privilege I no longer have access to. At 3:30 this morning I found myself tossing and turning, then I found myself lying on the couch, then I found myself sitting outside. My body weary of drinking, no sleep medication because I have to be at work in a couple hours. So just there, hoping for rain, hoping for sunlight. Hoping for something that would allow me to feel something.

I’m behind schedule. I need to get back to work. Just some random thoughts from a random writer.