How has it been almost 4 months

Published on 30 March 2024 at 12:41

I sit here this morning, looking at the date of the last blog post.

December 2, 2023.

Just 3 days shy of 4 months since I have written here. 

And now, to try and catch up in one blog? 

Yeah, right! LOL 


The holidays have come, and they have gone away for another year.

Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day. 

And then, there was Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day. 

Now, tomorrow is Easter.

There have been laughs, and tears. 

Stories are remembered and told, as well as some new memories have been made. 

Stories about Rick. 

New memories without Rick. 


January had me packing, searching, praying, stressing . . . and moving. 

Which, for the record, caught me by surprise. 

Oh, I knew that the little house was not my "home" - but I did not think it would all come to an end the way it did.

The landlord came out on the 3rd of January, picked up his rent (which was not late, nor was I behind on) - and told me that I had until February 1 to vacate the house. Since this is Texas, and it was a month-to-month lease agreement after December 1, 2023 - he only had to give me the time of one rent payment to vacate. He could - and did - do so, without reason. 

What seemed to be almost the proverbial "11th hour" - a place just up the road was offered to me. The sweet lady said that I could "camp out for 2-3 months while trying to figure out what to do." It's not a large place - but a smaller apartment in the corner of a shop building. As strange as it feels to think this, and stranger to write it, I really do like this place. I feel safer here than anywhere I have lived in these years since Rick died. There is a definite "coming home" feel to this place. But will it last longer than 2-3 months? 


February was spent working on getting unpacked, settled. And going through my things - deciding what to let go of, and what to hold on to. As well as figuring out WHY I wanted to hold on to anything at this point. 

I spent a lot of time resting in February. Letting my body, mind and heart, heal some from the stress of moving yet again, As well as from the hard fall I took on the concrete the last day of moving. 

Still keeping my eyes and ears open for any other place to live. 

So sick and tired of moving. 

This apartment is either the 9th or 10th move I have made in these 9 years since Rick died. 

I'm just exhausted. 


March came in and brought with it more searching, more looking, for a place to call "home". As of today, the 30th of March, there is nothing open to me - everything so far is out of my budget, or just not available. 

This month has also had our daughter-in-love and I working on a garden at their house. Digging, planting, and watching the sprouts grow. 

I have cleaned out a flowerbed here next to the apartment, and planted morning glories with a few bluebonnets, too. And with every weed I pulled, every seed I planted, I couldn't stop wondering if I would even be here to see the seeds sprouting, much less growing and producing the blooms. Sigh. 


I have continued this month of March in going through stuff, making decisions to let go or to hold on to.

Every time there is more to let go of, and a stronger reason for what I am holding on to.

Guess that's the process. 

It's not easy.

My mind feels tired. Worn out. 

My emotions are more raw than they have been in a while. 


I am working towards getting caught up here in the blog - there will be some added past posts, as well as new ones in the days ahead (at least I hope so). 

At least my intentions are this. 


I like writing.

It's my therapy.

Sometimes I wonder if any of it matters beyond me. 


My Facebook posts this year have generated an overwhelming amount of responses - and I find myself greatly humbled, as well as honored by it all.

There are moments when I sense confirmation and assurance about writing this blog, keeping this website, even incorporating it all into that book that Rick was insistent that I write. 

And then, there are moments when I seriously doubt my abilities, and question why. 


All I can do is write. 

Even when I don't sit here and write the words, the words have a way of burning blisters on my heart and soul.


The hardest thing for me to do is to promote myself, my writings.

That makes me miss Rick's encouragement and support even more than what has become the normal.

Rick is the one who believed in me - when I didn't believe in myself.

I loved the way I looked in his eyes.

I miss that horribly, terribly, awfully. 


There will be more details to write about, but this at least is a "lick and promise" to catching up.

Life goes on . . . hour by day . . . night following . . . 

Sigh - Rick, I miss you. 


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