My little sister started a blog and asked me to do the same. I told her I had nothing to say anymore. I guess this is a test to see if that is in fact true.
I recently turned 28 years old.
Holy shit.
When did I get so old?
Michael Jackson died yesterday.
That just makes me feel older.
The end of an era.
I don't get out much anymore and I don't know when that will change. It will change some day.
She will die.
My beloved Abuela.
The pain I feel on a daily basis for this slow and constant loss is beyond words.
I'm pretty sure that is why I have nothing left to say. This grief I have never experienced before dries up words. My sighs blow the dust away.
I think constantly, "'What can I tell my bones?'"
What, indeed?
How do I look make plans for a future that can't start until her death? It's too much like anxiously waiting for her to hurry up and die already.
God, no!
What else can I do?
I guess we'll see if I have anything left to say.
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