Thoughts, Reflections over the last week or so.
It seems strange to me. I keep waiting, waiting for her to come back from bowling or some working up at Jewish. It's like she's not gone, she can't be dead. Even though she is. It's lonely in the house without her, it's lonely period. I can't joke on her, I can't call her Dingy, I can't... I can't hear her special way of yelling 'SonofBitch'. I miss her baking. I remember when Ronnie and I were little, how we'd wake up to the smell of freshly baked Muffins, or freshly made Pancakes. I remember on our birthdays, she would make our favorite cakes. I remember... doing her make-up and making her look like a clown, watching scary movies and making popcorn. I miss her so much, and some days I wake up, thinking she's still alive, only to have my heart broken once more to find out, it wasn't all a dream. I don't know. I am just a little... frightened. Eh...I'll edit this later. Too tired. I've had the flu lately >.