I watched the sky outside my window turn from a dark to a now glowing light blue as the sun is slowly made its way up. I woke up at just before 5am this morning which isn’t really all that bad, considering I was asleep a few minutes after 10pm. As I was used to sleeping after midnight or later, I guess it was just my body clock “adjusting” — hence the early wake up call.
I feel much better. I think the jetlag is practically gone, but the after effects of the staggered and irregular sleep patterns has started to catch up with me. Last night, I whipped up dinner and took care of the boy and lay next to him. Father and son were still in a playful mood but I just needed sleep. I drifted off to lala land and woke up feeling refreshed.
The sun is finally out. I am hoping the rain doesn’t make a reappearance anytime soon. There is something relaxing about falling rain, true. But there is also an element of sadness to it.
Late evenings and early mornings are the best times for me. It’s quietest and calmest then. The silence and tranquility somehow helps me to recalibrate myself and just end or start the day in a more positive vein. I’ve always been a night owl. I have found that the best time for me is when the sun is not up. While I am fully functional during the day, my most productive time is when the skies are dark.
It’s been almost a month now since Dad passed. I am trying to get on with life and will now try to attend to the many messages of condolences I have yet to acknowledge. Even doing that has been difficult. In fact there are still times when people ask me about my “vacation” and I simply say “It went fine..,” only because explaining I had gone home because Dad passed gets a tad bit too emotional for me.
I thought I’d be scared to see him or feel him but I can walk into the darkness without fear at any time of the day. He is here that he isn’t here.