2.08 a.m.

I'm just so sad. Despite the daily functioning, I feel down, out of sorts, my emotions like a wave, advancing and collapsing, changing moment to moment, set swirling by any small thing. I sit here contemplating the idea that suffering is born of the wish for things to be different, and that we would suffer less if we stopped resisting what is. I try to accept what is, especially that which can now never be any different, the loved ones gone from this earth, but there are other things in my life that I don't accept, and I do wish they were different. And so I suffer. I know this makes no sense to you, it's almost 2 a.m. and the whole house is asleep, and I feel bereft and empty and out of sorts, even though my daughter is home for spring break and I wish to be happy for her, but I can't fake it. I am lost and anxious and sad and I try to block it because she is so empathetic and I don't want her to absorb these feelings. The house was full of people all day today. I was acceptably social even though I wanted to run away and hide and wallow. I wanted to sit quietly and miss my mother. Instead I talked and laughed and was social until everything fell apart inside me. And now, in the middle of the night, there is nothing left but this lonely desolate feeling I cannot name or truly share.