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2007-03-23 - 10:24 a.m.
I vacuumed and mopped the floors. I bought purple flowers, wiped the tabletops and washed the blankets on the couch. I looked through pictures and framed one to put on the mantel.
All this as if awaiting a homecoming, not the anniversary of a death.
No one talks about it, not at all. Everyone pretends they're fine. They're not, really -- but what are they supposed to do? She's gone. And here we are with all her stuff. We talk about other things. We don't like to be uncomfortable.
So I just try to keep things tidy, keep things moving, keep things stable.
I feel like a fraud.