The truth about surviving the suicide of my 41 year old husband, raising our 3 kids alone, getting robbed and kidnapped the morning of the funeral (seriously, this really happened), and learning how to really LIVE, and even LAUGH, in spite of it all.
October 5, 2011
3 months. The last 30 days have taken 2 years to pass. Perhaps time does fly when you're havin' fun, because when you are definetely not havin' fun, it creeps ever sooo slowlyyyyy! I try to use all the additional minutes to love my kids and keep my house clean. That's why my house is still clean people! I've come to the realization that this is basically just "IT". I do what the grief therapists say, I "work through the grief." I try to "live in the moment", blah blah effin blah. I don't like the grief people right now. Cause right now, in this moment, it SUCKS. And guess what, I think it's always going to suck. I think there might be varying degrees of suckiness...like I'm not always laying on the floor sobbing, sometimes the tears just stream silently and I don't have a panic attack. But they are there everyday, with this gaping hole in my heart. I believe that old ladies are the only ones who tell the truth. They come up to me from nowhere, grab hold of my arm, get so close I can smell the peppermint in their mouth and they look me right in the eye and say, "This is it baby, the hurt doesn't go away." BAM! So now what? I practice acceptance. I don't question God. And I pray so hard, so hard, so hard, to feel true happiness and peace everyday. I saw a post today that said "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain." So I will vow to dance in the rain, but I think I know that people dancing in the rain are doing that so you can't see their tears.