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In the morning, as I'm making the bed and getting dressed, I think over the schedule for the day and what I need to pack into my carry bag.

This morning I started to think about my appointment after lunch. I'm going to the VA and get my signature and N's notarized on my retirement application. It's really going to happen.

I started to cry as I was making the bed. Grieving, I guess. This particular position has been a major part of my life for three and a half decades; what I do for a living is exactly suited to my skills and personality. I enjoy what I do.

As of December, it will be dead and gone.

Yes, yes, I know the old saw: I'm not retiring from something, I'm supposed to be retiring to something. I should develop a sense of purpose and intent, and not look back.

Well, dammit, I'm looking back. It's been a good life and in a lot of ways I'm going to miss it. I've worked to earn a living for over 50 years. Please allow me a little time to grieve and say good-bye in my own way.

Then I'll move on.

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