Week

I find myself in the thick of the week leading up to the second anniversary of her death. Overwhelming memories. On this date, such-and-such happened. The fateful call to Dr. B. on Sunday, the Monday morning he told her that she was dying, the visit by the Dynamo, her graduation from SHSU, the conversations, the hospital full of people, her hospice set-up at home, the Goodbye concert, the constant flow of people, the vigil, the last hug.
Mother's Day was once again not the best. Not as bad as last year, but still quite difficult, partly, because I tried to donate blood but was rejected due to high bp; I took it hard because I wanted to give for Maura. 
For my birthday, I proactively organized Chinese take-out and game night--that worked out well. 
I'm working lots of hours in somewhat of a fog. Vietnam is dangled in front of me--postponed  and reset and postponed and reset and postponed and reset.
Anticipating a bad day on the 19th, I took the day off. On that day, Joel and I will help tear down walls at the church. I hear that swinging a sledgehammer can be therapeutic. In the evening, I have an appointment at MD Anderson to donate platelets. If I can successfully donate, then I think I'll make a tradition of donating on this anniversary

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