On Tuesday I had intentions of accomplishing great things (namely house cleaning) since everyone had been around this weekend but, when faced with the day, I crumpled. Alone. When they are gone, I feel the Great Alone. I was actually looking forward to quiet and time to clean but It suddenly became something different. I felt lost.

Lost. I have felt tis way for sometime, even before Sonny died, knowing what was to come. But finally, the feeling had a name, an idenity.  As if I was on a track in life and suddenly someone turned out the light. Now I am forced to go a direction which is invisible to me. Do I go left or right? Do I attempt to step off of the track and venture into unknown territory? Will I fall into a hole and be unable to get out? Lost.

I talked with my friend whose husband also died and she agreed with that description. I do not like this feeling. I do not like it at all. But there is nothing I can really do about that, I am left to find my way. She is left to find her way. She says we are writing new works, I, my epilogue and she, her prologue. I think the definition is accurate. An epilogue is a piece of writing at the end of a work of literature, usually used to bring closure to the work. It is presented from the perspective of within the story.  Closure…

To close one thing implies that something else eventually will be opened. You know, when God closes a door, he opens a window kind of thing. Except that right now I feel that I am in this room, with a closed door and it is dark. I cannot see the window or any other door. It is going to take faith and bravery to step away from the doorknob. the one thing I can feel and know. Plus to top it off, I feel my age calling out to me. I am in that strange time between youth and old, the in-between where every minute seems precious.

So I still find myself clinging to that stupid doorknob, sitting on the track. Some days I venture out a wee bit but always seem to find my way back  to my place of security. I am waiting for a glimmer of light from another open door or a breeze to imply that a window has been opened. And as lame as the old adage goes there is some truth in it. The door of my old life is closed and I am packing up the parts that are left, writing my epilogue and trying to find a happy ending.