Midlife Musings

Reflections on life from 40-something

Tick. Tick. Tick.

November11

When you are waiting for something, good or bad, why is it that time just slows to a crawl? I mean, I recognize this is, like, the eternal question, right after “where did I come from”? But I always thought it applied to good stuff, and now I am finding that I was wrong. It doesn’t matter what you are waiting on, and it doesn’t matter if you are wearing one of the fancy Festina watches, or a $6 one from Wal-Mart, you will be checking it, and it will seem to stop.

So why is that? Is it because wen we are waiting, we are so focused on how much time is left? Like this morning, my question is do I have enough, and then when Grandmother was dying, it was “Can I please have more?” combined with ‘Dear Lord, this needs to be over, for her sake.”

You know, I woke up Sunday morning about 3am, with tears on my face. I was dreaming about her death, and in my dream, I was just crying out “no, no, no”. I was on my knees on the floor, but I wasn’t praying. I just couldn’t stand up. Not letting myself grieve like I needed to when she died was probably one of the biggest mistakes I have ever made.

They say that we dream so that our subconscious can deal with things that our waking minds cannot deal with. I hope this is true. And don’t take this personally (you know who you are), but please don’t ever encourage someone to keep up a good front when faced with a cataclysmic event. And don’t assume that it isn’t an issue for them just because it isn’t for you. I wonder if I had cried then, would I still be crying now?

And Dear God help me when my mind decides to tackle Papa and Grandma.

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I'm Cass. I am a full-time mom to eight great children, a Christian and a blogger. I'm also a knitter, a reader and a movie watcher. And a collector of eclectic oddities.

For the first time in 18 and a half years, I have my own little corner again. Somewhere along the way, I seem to have lost myself, and now that I realize I'm missing, I'm on the look out for me. You maybe don't know what that means, but then again, maybe you do. Regardless, this is where I'll be when I'm not being a mother or a knitter. This is where I'll be just me. And if no one ever reads it, that's ok. I'll know it's here.


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