Silverlock day4

After the emotions yesterday and all that jazz, I would surely want to be able to lay my tired buzzing head at rest on her comforting and warm bossom. Hearing the reassuring ticking of her presence/heart. Yesterday walked away at the cemetry with a shovel in my hands which I used to dig a hole to plant the beam in. I walked up to the exit together with my oldest daughter and she started it. On this cemetry you have the normal graves in a row beside a path, but also you can have a grave random in the forest, like Annemarie has. My daughter saw him first, a man was standing aside of the path shaking out a white sheet. She suggested he dumped another body in the grave of his wife, I said it could also be possible that he had dressed up as a ghost, in order to trying to scare his wife, to pay her back for scaring him off by dying so suddenly.
And suddenly by awakening our imagination it felt awkward to walk there with a shovel in my hand and I suggested that people could think that we had dig up Annemarie to let her take part in the rememberance. She giggled. She's getting as sick as I am. I'm doing a good job in raising her.
This is a picture of Annemarie on her last second Christmas day (Boxing Day) of her life. The medicin that she had to limit woundfluid, causes people to be very eager to eat. Crying out loud hungry, even. That's why she looks so dissolute, with the tea-towel hanging in her sweater causing to lower it and revealing her shoulder and bra, and her sensual look, in search for food and fun.
At (first) Christmas Day we were at her sister's place, with all the relatives of her and her husband. And while everybody frantic tried to act normal, she sat, almost lying, in a nice chair, with a big teatowel to prevent her to make a mess of herself and ate like a beast and made little and also loud noises of enjoyment. It was a feast amidst all the clumsy ways of handling this emotional situation. It was her party.