Still? Still.

Oh the Joys made me cry with her post about her grandmother's death and how angry it has made her. She was feeling bad about being angry at her grandma for leaving her so suddenly and horribly.

I haven't gotten angry at my sister for dying - no, not at her. Mad at the universe, yeah, of course - I mean, what a crap deal, taking away my best pal AND my sister and leaving me here in the soup for what, another 30 years?

I took that longevity test and it said I would live to 95. To which my response was: "Shit. I hope not."

I get through everything ok until it comes to Friday night.

During the week, there's work and all that other stuff that I feel like I HAVE to keep doing. On Saturday, I get busy right away with the gym and Farmer's Market and all the errands and activities of the weekend that take me right thru til Sunday night.

But Friday night seems to fall through the cracks. I am just tired enough and uninspired enough for the little wobbly fence I have built around my emotions to tumble down into a pile of sticks.

Most days I don't cry anymore. But I really, really miss my sis. I am so damn glad she doesn't have to live in a body where she was so trapped, and I know I will see her again. It just seems so far away, these dark Friday nights.