I've tried to blog in the morning, I sit at the blank screen, drinking my de-caf coffee...and I got nothing. I'm just not a morning person, never have been. That's one of my qualities that Jack never fully grasped. He was always so happy in the morning...I couldn't give it back, until 15 minutes of wake-up time. My family gets it, he never did. Then Ben was born with the same morning disposition. Ben and I wouldn't say a word to each other. He would crawl into my lap and I would just hold him, no words ever spoken, until enough time passed and my tickle hands came out. Jack always thought Ben was mad at him...he just didn't get the first thing out of bed ritual.
My ritual is a nighttime blog, I can't change that either.
Today, I had two references mentioned to me about Jack, one in person, the other on the phone. It kinda throws you for a loop, or a fist shoved into your stomach. I fessed up to only one. What am I so afraid of? Afraid to say he died, afraid to take accountability for my new life, or maybe just afraid to try.
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