Ramble of the Week

This week PBW had writer's block. I can relate. The difference is, even with her writer's block she's more eloquent than I.

I feel like I've been stuck on a repetitive ramble for the past few weeks. George has been the topic of pretty much all my posts. Then again, with everything going on, he is pretty much the topic of most of my thoughts. The rest of my thoughts are bound by confidentiality required by the rules of professional responsibility. So, I continue the rut, I continue the ramble, for the story is almost done.

The time is coming where I can count the hours until the moment I have been dreading. It's no longer expressed in weeks. It's no longer expressed in days. We're down to mere hours. And I'm getting panicky. I'm clingy. I feel the need to soak up every last molecule of him that I can get before he is gone. I know, at the same time, that this pushes him away.

Yet, there is a certain amount of anticipation as well. Anticipation for all of this to be over. For the pain and the hurt and the heartbreak and the drama and the crying and the agony to be gone.

He doesn't leave tomorrow, but tonight is effectively our last night together. I am pulling at the last reserves of emotional strength I have to get through this weekend. I don't want to spend the weekend crying. I don't want to spend the weekend lamenting about the time we don't have. I will cry and lament when he is gone.

As humans, we are adaptable creatures. I am constantly reminded of our ability to adapt and overcome obstacles in our lives. Physical obstacles, emotional obstacles, mental obstacles, psychological obstacles are just that...Obstacles. They are not boundaries which define us, or limit our abilities. I will adapt. I am fully aware that I will adapt. In the grand scheme of things it is a relatively small adaptation to make.

So, appropriately for this time of year, this weekend I will put on my mask. I will hide behind the facade needed to mask the fear, anger, disappointment, hurt and frustration. I will load my mental camera with film to record memories to look back on when I am able. And I will look forward to my human ability to adapt.