Standing Up To The Pain/Saying Thanks

My words are not arriving as easily as I would prefer. Instead of sentences I'm getting single words like pensive, lonely, and saturated.

I can announce that the fog has lifted; no more faucets left running. No more forgetting to feel hungry.

I can also say that music has re-entered my life. I can listen to a lot of songs that were painful just a week ago.

Oh and speaking of music, I would like to personally thank Mr. Weaver for learning and rendering the most powerful version of Mellon-Collie and the Infinite Sadness during Alison's service. As a solo-piano, the depth and passion he was able to render cut me as deep as any sadness I'd felt up to that point. I know it's goofy to have that song at a funeral, but Alison would understand. That song put me back beside her, my hand holding hers. I felt her pinky between my index and middle finger, and her other fingers between my index and thumb. We held hands that way because of the difference in the sizes of our hands. I was with her again during that song, and no one else on earth could give me that. Mr. Weaver's gift was the greatest comfort to me on that day. And I don't want to let it go too long without saying so.

I've checked into my last hotel during this road trip. Tomorrow morning I fly back to my life.