Highlands by the month

I never intended to stop going to Highlands altogether.  Its just that, in the past, it had become a given that its where we would spend every weekend that I wasn't on call.  We were paying zero attention to Camp Rustown and all of the things we needed to work on at our actual HOME.  After Mark died, I released myself from the every single weekend obligation.

Every time I come up here I feel overwhelmed and anxious, teary and confused.  What in the hell am I going to do with this place?  Not to mention, when? How?

Its really like seeing a dying dream.

Mark was in charge of so much stuff there - like he literally did it without explaining to or teaching me.  I don't know the first thing about so many aspects.  It feels like beautiful chaos.  A lonely place for me.

It was his "Shangri La", not mine, but I did love being here with him.

The grass is so high.  The pipes are still broken.  The canoe is still leaning against the fence.  I don't know how to change out the under-sink water filter.

And it feels a little ghostly to me, even if it also bring happy memories.  I feel like I am very very slowly coming to terms with what I will need to decide for its future.  It breaks my heart a little to think of someone else building their little country home up here.  Just wrecks me.

It was supposed to be our place.

This past Saturday I gathered as many bluebonnet seeds as I could find.  I never saw more than half a dozen bluebonnets up here this spring.  (But I did find seeds so maybe I just missed them?)  In any case, these are destined for a small patch of grass in front of our house where he died.  If that's weird, I don't care.  I want wildflowers to thrive there, not traumatic memories.

I decided I would come up here a minimum of once a month.  If even for an hour or so.  Just walk around, take note of things, just like he and I used to do. Month by month I hope to figure it out.  But I can't avoid coming here just because it makes me cry every time.

Gina