here we are again. that time of the month. when no matter how slow i breath i can't shake the death. ivan invades me. subtle things. coming across his number in my phone. hearing a woman at the conference complain about a "sentimental" resident who has boxes of "clutter" because her son died and she won't get rid on any piece of him... and i turned to my co-worker beside me and said "if someone asked me to throw one thing ivan gave me away i would punch them in the face". i carry his high school i.d. in my purse. sometimes i just reach in and feel the stiff plastic on my hands and it comforts me. just to know that at one time he touched that corner of plastic, knowing that he gave that to me at a time when he loved me, knowing that no one can take that from me.
and i am alone here. and i don't want to network or mingle or watch tv. and i am having a hard hard day.
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