Today I am angry.
Angry at myself cause I just couldn't get up this morning.
Angry at the kids, cause they weren't ready when the ride showed up.
Angry at my son because he can't find his cell phone.
Angry at the rain.
Angry at my clothes in the closet.
Angry at the car cause in its folds lies a rotting piece of food.
Angry at the kitchen because it won't clean itself.
Angry at my back that aches all the time.
Angry at myself because my ability to care for myself seems to slip further and further away.
Angry because I know, if I sit still...just for a moment I will see it's not anger.
I see my life with out Art.
I see the possibility of it and then I can't breath.
The grief , the inescapable dark void that sits quietly, every moment, in the center of our daily life, rises up and I think, I won't be able to breathe ever again.
If he dies, I will hurt for the rest of my life.
Anger is easier.