The sheep – the stuffed sheep given to us as a gift after Devin died – lives between our pillows on the bed. Sometimes he falls down between the wall and the mattress; sometimes he sits up between our heads as we sleep. He’s always there.

Den frequently reaches for him when we are in bed. He holds him, sits him down on his chest, looking at it with far too much sadness in his eyes, knowing why the sheep is here. Today he said to me, “This sheep always makes me sad.” He sighed.

I looked over a few minutes later and Den was asleep… the sheep laying across his face.

::

The lawn and garden center called me back today. The tree expert agreed with the woman I spoke to, that it’s a fungus and needs this spray. I went to pick it up today, along with a sprayer and some fertilizer for later. She said the tree sounds like it will survive, though we may lose the main stem branch – which is sad in its own right, since Den picked this particular tree out because of how nice and strong and straight that main stem was. But it will live and that’s all that matters to me. She did say that if not treated it most certainly would have died.

I got two calls from arborists I called… neither service this town. I have a call in at one other arborist company that I haven’t heard back from yet. I’m getting rather pissed. Especially since at least one of the companies I called say on their website that they service “the valley area” and “western MA.” So perhaps they should have been a little more specific and I wouldn’t have wated their time and mine.

I read up a little on tree diseases. It’s depressing, to be honest. Makes me wish we chose a pet rock, instead. It’s too scary to have something live. There’s too much that could happen to it. How could I invest so much of my heart in something so fragile? It feels like I’m just begging to get hurt again. Maybe at least a pine tree that will grow to 100′ and live for 200 years. As long as it outlives me, right? But a cherry tree? How long will that last? Not long enough, I suspect. Not nearly long enough. It should live forever, to make Devin’s mark upon this world everlasting.

I have built myself back up again after our terrible loss, but I have built myself up using that tree is a foundation. Devin’s handprints; Devin’s photo; the tree… these are the things that I cling to, the concrete base to my sanity. If one of them should break I will come tumbling down. I cannot afford that right now. I teeter on my platform.

::

I cheated. I looked at the calendar. I wish I hadn’t – or, rather, I wish I hadn’t needed to. I started thinking AF was overdue and I had to look and remind myself that that was not the case. I am incredibly idiotic sometimes. How many times does one have to run into a wall before you stop running? My period should arrive Monday-ish. Although I have bets in that it will arrive Sunday afternoon, when I am at BabyH’s christening at church.

I just want it to show up. Now. Soon. I am prepared for it now… and I beg for it to come now, while I am braced, rather than give myself some time to relax a little. Why does it do that? Why does it always wait until you let your guard down? Then it’ll get in a nice uppercut while I’m looking off to the side. Freaking bitch.