I don't know about anybody else, but if I had to pick one day out of the week, I would say that Sunday is my favorite day. I always loved knowing that I didn't have to go anywhere or do anything on a Sunday unless I had just planned poorly. Today, I planned it perfectly. I saw the sunrise, got the Sunday Post, made the coffee, tuned in Sunday Morning and then lost the next five or so hours to the browsing of the paper and the viewing of the Sunday news shows, breaking for bacon and eggs when my stomach could be heard above Christine Amanpour.
Then a Costco run and a beer on the way home (which turned into a few hands of poker). A pretty normal day, I guess.
Except of course for the hour long melt-down in the early afternoon, that is. Once again, I couldn't tell you what triggered it without just sounding weird. I wept long enough and made enough noise that the dogs got concerned about it. I talked with my son about it later, and assured him that I didn't think I needed to talk to anyone or be medicated. I just miss my partner; I miss him on a cellular level. We were together a long time and I am not used to doing Sundays by myself.
And just so I keep things in perspective, I received word today that a good friend and former coworker/mentor is facing his own challenges with mortality. As unique, and personal, and "special" as my loss is to me, every human being on the planet faces mortality and works through grief. How can we NOT have compassion for one another?
This week, I will be breaking out of the routine a little more and having a few meals out with friends and relations. I'm also planning a little road trip for the coming weekend -- taking family treasures to family and treasuring the time with them.
Have a good week, everyone.