Wishing I Were Strong

It’s been a hard day today. I’m not exactly sure why things hit me wrong, but there it is.

The day actually started out fine. I finished making my jazz costume in time for tomorrow’s pre-pre dress rehearsal for an audition next week. (We’re auditioning for a performance at the end of the month. — A jazz dance.)

And then things went down from there. I got a call from the executor of my father’s estate. He’s signed with a real estate agent, and the house is going on the market. He was short with me, probably because this whole thing is as stressful for him as it is for me, and his shortness, more than the thought of actually putting the house on the market, upset me. I felt as if I had no control over any aspect of the coming events. Which, of course, I don’t.

For just a second I thought, “I don’t have to do this. I can go home.” Then the real panic set in when I realized I don’t have a home. I can’t go home to Jeff, can’t go anywhere because I have yet to find someplace to live.

Although I’ve tried to be strong about having my life turned upside down once more, the truth is . . . cripes, I don’t know what the truth is.

Maybe there is no truth to anything. Maybe we just do the best we can and then . . . and then, we do the best we can again. And again.

I’ll be okay tomorrow. And I’ll be okay when the house is sold — if worst comes to worst, I can grab a couch in a friend’s house or go to a motel. It’s just today I’m having problems with.

I wish I were as strong as people seem to think I am.


Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fireand Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.