Different

Something is different and I don’t know what it is. I don’t feel anger or sadness today. I don’t feel numb. I don’t know what I feel. It is not acceptance, as I don’t think I will ever accept what you did. It is just that I woke up this morning used to my life.

I have come to terms that it is just me getting everyone ready for school and me off to work. I am used to the fact that it is just me for the rest of the day. I spent the weekend running around with the kids making sure they had fun and I was used to the realization that it was just me.

I miss you but I can’t go on this way anymore. I can’t lie in bed at night saying your name over and over, hoping somehow it will trigger a dream that you will be in. I can’t sit in the cemetery week after week looking for ghosts.

Maybe because I have read over my last two blogs and I dislike what I read. I don’t want to be filled with guilt and hate. These are not qualities I find appealing or productive. I don’t think my heart will ever recover from losing you – but my head is yelling at me to stop the torture.

I have two beautiful children to worry about. A wonderful family and a million friends who care for me. I need to focus on the good in my life and not the misery and suffering I have been feeling. I don’t know how to do this exactly, but I am trying to push away the bad thoughts. Label them in my mind, put them in a box and just try not to remember where they are stored.

Nothing good can come from me reliving your death every day. Nothing good can come from asking myself “what if” over and over. I have to look at the right now and realize that despite my loss, I have a lot to be thankful for.

I took the kids strawberry picking this weekend. Of course I got lost. As we were driving around, who knows where, the kids asked me when we would get there. I said I don’t know I am lost. My son asked me why I was lost. I looked in the rear view mirror and said, because daddy always did the driving and now it is just me and I am trying just to find our way. The kids actually laughed at my ineptness. Then I laughed too.

Maybe this is just the rest of our lives – me driving the kids through life trying to find the right road and hoping at some point we do get there.

I am used to the children saying things like, too bad daddy is dead he loved strawberries or too bad daddy is dead he would have liked my pretty dress. These comments hurt my heart, but not as much as they once did. Maybe I am jaded or maybe I am just accepting that we are always going to talk about you – it is simply going to be in the past tense from now on.

I still want to take my kids to therapy. I think that they need to meet other children just like them. I still think they are scarred in some awful way and only hope that someday we can open out hearts again and embrace the love we lost.

I will still go to therapy as I don’t think I am anywhere near being healed. I am still going to cry, but maybe not everyday. I will still frequent the cemetery, but maybe not every week. I will still miss you everyday, but maybe without anger, guilt or hate. Quite possibly the gaping hole that was once my heart is starting to scab a bit. Or quite possibly I don’t want to walk around anymore with my insides oozing for all to see.

I am not sure why I feel the way I do today. Why I feel like something is different. Maybe tomorrow will be a terrible day and I will be back here agonizing over something trivial. Then again maybe I won’t.