Day 2: AC360 without AC

I'm not sure which is appropriate at this hour, good evening or good morning! Guess it depends on where you are. I don't know about you, but the week seems so much longer when Anderson is off. Yes, I know he deserves and needs some vacation or at least work that is a litttle different from the same old, same old. However, I miss the show with him sitting behind the desk. It's part of my nighttime ritual. He puts a smile on my face before I go to bed. He makes me forget my problems, my troubles, and takes away the loneliness. The loneliness is the worst since Mom is gone. It surrounds me like a heavy, dark cloud that feels like it's closing in on me and pushing me down. I'm familiar with the feelings of loss, but at one appointment someone verbalized perfectly. The doctor asked how I was doing, besides having a "heavy heart". I don't remember if I heard the term before but it was like a light bulb going off in my head. That was it! That's how it felt. A big heart normally seems like a good thing. A heavy heart, though, isn't the same thing. It makes you feel like your chest is too full. It's a feeling of intense presssure as though someone were sitting on your chest. You can't take a deep breath. The only time it's relieved is when you cry your eyes out. As horrible as that feels, it does relieve the pressure you feel inside, at least for a little while.

Sometimes in articles or interviews, Anderson mentions loss and how he misses his dad and brother. He seems to have handled his grief with moderation, style, and grace, and generosity. I constantly wonder how he does it. It's been quite a few years and he's come through it. I often wonder how he did it; how he does it now. What I wouldn't give to have his guidance. A helpful hint or two to guide me on my way through this dark and dismal world that has me trapped. It reminds me of that one commercial on television. You know the one where they ask where you want to go - answer: no where. What do you want to do: nothing. That's the way I feel.

To be bluntly honest though, there are a few things I want. I want a shoulder to lean on when I cry. I want to feel strong arms wrapped around me to make me safe again. I want that large hand resting in my hair and stroking me while I listen to that calm, soothing voice. That gentle voice telling me he is there and everything is going to be okay. I know it's not going to be okay, but I think I would still like to hear the words.

For those of you still up, goodnight and sweet dreams. For the early risers, have a good day.