I probably shouldn't write when I'm so depressed, but sometimes it's the only way to sort through things. I've already suggested to my mother that one of us sell our house and move in with the other. That got a no. Then I suggested it to my son. That got an even bigger no.
It's just that I miss Stacey so much. It's been five years and I still miss him so much. I realize tonight that I can NEVER stop taking my anti-depressants. I've always struggled with depression, and my doctor says that it's a brain chemical thing that I can't really help, but having Stacey in my life sure was better than being on anti-depressants. I didn't take them when he was alive, but I don't seem to be able to cope without him and anti-depressants both.
It's been already five years, and I feel no better. I'm just as sad, just as bereft, just as "cut loose". Sometimes I think it's not fair, but I'm not really mad at God, I don't think. In fact, I wish Jesus would come in the next five minutes to end this misery.