Two hours and fifteen minutes. No biggie, I thought. I’ll just read one post while I’m cooking supper. Two hours and fifteen minutes. With the news story and all my getting out and having fun I seem so strong, so adjusted, so… so… over it. So, while my Shake ‘n Bake chicken cooks, I’ll flip over to the blog, and read just one post titled Not Much Farther. I wrote it the morning of the day It happened, the day she died. Two hours and fifteen minutes. That’s how long I sat in the floor and cried. That’s how “over it” I am.
You all give me way more credit than I deserve. Oh yeah, I’m trying. Half of doing is trying, right? Every day I get up, wag my tail and hit the ground ready to play ball. It’s been a long time since It happened so I should be adjusted, right? Really, I am truly a lot stronger than I’ve been. I don’t cry as often. I don’t stare blankly at the walls quite so much. I can’t remember the last time I broke down in public. Heck, I even occasionally go through Facebook pictures of her (and us) and smile. Just tonight Devon, a friend of Maggie’s from law school, posted a recently-found picture from her birthday party from December 2006. Maggie was grinning and having a great time despite having just hours before, shown me by touch the large lump sticking out of her chest. Seeing that picture I smiled. I love, love, love my baby’s smile.
It’s funny timing. Mary just posted on my last blog entry how she was impressed at how I managed to stay strong despite the ridiculous and difficult moments that come up (Chase Bank, anyone?) Two hours and fifteen minutes. I suppose that’s an improvement.
Chase Bank called today while I was away from my phone but I’ll chat with them tomorrow. They called from the “Executive Office” in Houston and want to discuss my situation. That’ll be an interesting conversation, no?