I forget the warm feelings I find after receiving comments on one of my posts, from others in our little corner of the blogshpere, and I thank you, I forget how much comfort I once found in blogging regularly.
Received a phone call this morning that a bed will be open for La Petit a week from Tuesday at the residential facility we are looking into. It is over 4 hours away and we have no guarantee that the insurance will authorize treatment until he is physically at the facility and they do an intake. Another week of keeping him on lock down. It will not be easy. But then again, nothing ever is.
The weekend was drama and stress free other than the fact that he is getting anxious and wants to go back to school and he wants to see his friends.
This all still feels like a bad dream. I still find it difficult to accept the fact that the Prince is dead. At times, it will hit me like a brick and I can literally feel the air being forced from my lungs and breathing can be difficult. And I have ask myself, did this really happen? Is he really gone? Has it really been more than fourteen months since I have layed my eyes on him or spoken to him? Will I really never see him again? And the pain is just too much too endure.