Being back at the cabin is fabulous, such a wonderful place. Last year, I wrote about the magical effects being here had on me, just being here is great. Even more so this year, because I’m so much more aware of things around me, and of the people here.
Last night, Lynn and I were walking along the path, and somehow got onto the subject of one of the brothers-in-law, and did my time last year overlap with his? I could’ve sworn that we didn’t, or if so, it was passing on the dock- but, it seems, he was here the entire time that I was; in fact, he’d asked Lynn, after I had returned home, was I mad at him for something, because he hardly saw me?
No, I wasn’t mad at him- or anyone, really, except perhaps myself. At that time, I was so concentrated on surviving, just breathing and eating was taking all my energies. I had arrived shortly after the lowest point, when the Black Thing had a close and strong grip on me, and was still adjusting to the meds, still adjusting to the fact that I had come so close to being one of those statistical entries- “n” number will commit suicide this year… that I really haven’t got clear memory of much, from that week.
I do remember a couple of specific incidents, but which of the extended family was here, there or anywhere- nope. I recall sleeping a lot, and hanging out in the cabin a lot, and trying to laugh, and trying not to curl into my little ball and step off the world- and that’s about it.
On the other hand, looking around this year, I find myself awake, and much more aware. I know which nieces and which nephews are here, which brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, and this is a good thing.