The Night

I went to bed at 11:00 last night and got up at 12:30 in the afternoon.  I am turning into one of those women you see in movies who stays in her gown and fuzzy slippers wandering around looking lost.  I hope it is a phase.  I think I am just worn out.  I ran into our bedroom door at least 3 times in the dark.  The doorknob on our door is opposite to what Dad's was.  I keep thinking I'm there, and I can't get out of the room.  My husband is threatening to lock it so that I don't fall down the stairs - they are located where Dad's toilet was.

I am trying to remember details, things I should be doing, how can I help my family?  But I'm a mess myself.  Me.  The one who always gets up, showers, does her hair, puts on her make-up.  Just in case I wander out of the confines of my home.  But I don't.  I don't want to.  Crowds make me cry.  It's just too much input, too much noise, too much to think about.  For someone who has always had an active mind like mine, the inside of my head feels like a bog.  And I'm not sure what will come out of it.  It's dark in there, and kind of creepy.  I would like to surgically open it, and take out the dark spots.  But I think they have to come out on their own. 

If I take a sleeping pill, then I do sleep, but I dream of Daddy.  If I don't take a sleeping pill, I lie awake and think of Daddy.  I feel like I should go and spend time with my Mother, though her mind has been troubled for years now with Alzheimer's.  Would it make a difference to her?  I hope so. 

Life has a funny way of just moving on, even when you're standing still.  And that's where I am right now, standing still.  I keep telling myself, "swing your feet over the bed, stand up, and walk."  It's a small step, but it usually works.  But not today.  Today, I am going back to bed - to read, to pray, and to remember Dad.  As if I could ever forget.