I feel like I cannot pull the towel out of my ass to throw it in!!!!!
Oh how it hurts. I just know Brenda is going to call me...knock on my door for a visit. I just know this isn't real. It can't be.
Is it my imagination....I enter the room she made her transition in and I smell death. It won't go away. Is it there or is it imagined...perhaps a little of both? I don't know.
Just about the time I think it's over another piece of mail arrives reminding me there is still unfinished business to conduct on her behalf. Another phone call requires my attention to finish this up.
This has some how transformed to "BUSINESS". I cannot seem to get away, there is no where to run, and I cannot hide from it.
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