I need a new journal.

If we had a tv, I'd sure would've spent my last few evenings staring at it.  Instead, I look at the interwebs, hoping to find something that can suck me in - at least for a little while.  I feel like I can't do anything.  The laundry is piling, piling, piling.  And the dirty dishes, along with other chores.  Maybe I'm grieving?  But the news wasn't a shock.  This turn of events has been in the works for as long as I can remember.  I can't recall a time when this didn't seem like a good idea - the only solution.  And so, the fact that it finally arrived is not shocking.  But it's definitely surprising...  that this thing that seemed to be the answer, that was talked about and thought about so often but never arrived has finally arrived.

I can't process it.

I don't know what life is like from this point forward.  How do we spend time together now?  Will all 6 of us never be together again?  It's not the end of the world, but it's strange for sure. 

It's funny.  I think about it, and I start wondering how one or both of them are feeling or doing or whatever.  And it makes me feel uncomfortable - because I don't know what to say or what to do.  Because there's really not much I can do.  It's not about me.  (And that's nice, honestly.)  But the uncomfortable feeling is one that I have to fight because it makes me want to ignore them.  Not treat them like the fragile humans they are, with thoughts and feelings.  I have to push those thoughts out and call anyway.  We can't always be graceful.  Hell, if you know me, you know I don't have a graceful bone in my body.  I'm completely awkward. So, I might as well call and have the awkward conversation. 

Going home for Christmas now seems way more complicated and stressful than it ever was before... even though this is the first time in 11 years that D has a full week off.  Now home isn't really home.  There will be even more places to go now that it's separate.