The city on the river there is a girl without a dream

I'm firmly in the grip of the blues.

This started Sunday when the announcements of the streaming video of the Hugo awards began showing up in my Facebook feed. I'd already long ago - like last year's Worldcon - decided I wasn't going to watch the awards streaming this year. As it was, during last year's memorial display part of the ceremony, I started crying in anticipation of what it was going to be like seeing Jay's name on the screen.

But that started me tumbling down the rabbit hole of grief and sadness once more. And now I'm sitting firmly at the bottom.

Once again, every little thing is making me cry. Every change in the house, every stray memory of Jay, every time I (still, even after all this time) start to grab my phone to text Jay about something cool I just saw, every time a shadow moves across the floor.

One foot in front of the other ...