what is left

What is left of this strange and uncomfortable life-it never gets more familiar and the cold just seems to set in. My sweet husband is gone now-he rests on the mountain high above me. My old border collie is gone too and only Moses and I carry on-relying on the sheep for entertainment and comic relief. I have been told that I am bitter and mean, and since I have been told that I have become bitter and mean. I am only ready to sign off from life as I can't hear the music now. I JUST DON'T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE. tHE IDEA OF BLOGGINg IS, i THINK AN EXERCISE IN KEEPING A DIARY ANDtherefore keeping track of thoughts to sort them out. THere isn't much to sort out. I miss my husband and I miss my job at the post office and I miss my friends and my family and my dogs and having someone to cry with and laugh with and have coffee with in the morning. I can't breath enough to get far and have to stop and rest often. I can't see future anywhere or the reason for future. Each night I pray for GOd to take me home and get me outta here. Like Hank said, "Minnie, I just don't see the light anymore.".