I dreamed you did not return. Get out of the way just write don’t think Faith Hope Love My faith I dreamed you did not return. The faith I had in gardening in love in laughter in interest. All of that left with you. I don’t really like to do much of anything anymore but it doesn’t really feel like I am depressed just empty Filled with pain. All the things I thought I would do have children be married have a sucessful career as a professor all those things gone. I used to dream that I would leave teaching high school and move to Morocco and live in a old caliphs house with a courtyard and lemon trees and tiles running the length of the very white wall in the living room. I thought I would find something that I hadn’t expected and would feel passionate about every morning when I went to work. I thought I would write and paint and make beautiful clay pots and have a splendid garden and many friends. I thought I would meet someone who would make me smile everytime i saw them but all those things didn’t seem very important when I lived and cared for you. You smiled everytime I came home I can see you there sitting in your chair by the door and you would look up and smile and say hello. And when you died in those first months I thought my life would open up somehow and I would find my way back to all those things I thought I wanted to do all those things I put off. I was tired most of the time and worried and time was something I thought I would have later after you were gone when I could somehow do the things I thought I missed while you were living with me. But dear mother, I learned that you were my love you were my everything from the very first day I saw that smile hanging over me. They tell me it is grief and I would like to believe them but I am 62 years old now and it hurts when I walk and my left foot feels numb and my hands drop things sometimes. I gained all the weight I had lost in the year since you have been gone and I feel it in my hips and the pressure it puts on my feet and the ache in my bones and sometimes my muscles. You used to sigh and I would ask you if you were all right and you would say just old and in pain. Now I am old and in pain but I feel like 62 is too young to feel like this.