Of quilts and men.

I found out today that one of my husband’s best friends died.  He was one of the few friends I went back to the state we met in to mourn with when my husband died.  To be honest, I feel like I was stabbed in the gut.  I can’t stop crying again.  I am so grief burned out that the mere thought of being close to more people and having them die, sucks.  I’m so over humans.  I forget how to people.  The effort of relating is just too much.

On a slightly less depressing note, I decided to make a quilt.  Yes, a quilt.  I’m making patches dedicated to each of the people that have up and died on me.  It might cover a continent when I’m finished, but…yeah.  I’m a do this thing.  Make a quilt.  Sure.  Or at least try.

So tired, but at least I have a half-assed goal.

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