It has been exactly 548 days (a year and a half) since I lost Mike. One might think I'd have a lot to say after that statement, but I actually stopped, slouched in my seat and stared at the screen for a moment to contemplate what I could even possibly say as a followup. There really aren't words.
I sometimes wonder how I even still have breath in my body. The fact is I could never have envisioned my heart beating if ever his stopped. I am sitting here in my kitchen with a strange, awful feeling in my mind. That scary, lonely feeling is very strong right now. Maybe it's because I just woke up from a nap, one with strange and disturbing dreams. Or maybe I am just living through yet another cold-water-in-the-face shot of reality.
I think I have been trying as well as I possibly can. I have already lived through the first round of "seconds" since the anniversary of his passing. I survived a move. I survived changing seasons. I survived his sister's wedding without him. Why, though, has life become something merely something to survive rather than enjoy? Is that why we are here? How am I even doing this? And why do I even want to?
One of the only thoughts that gives me solace is knowing every day I survive is another day closer to the day I will never have to survive without him -- ever again.
Lauren, the first year we are just surviving. The 2nd year is the hardest because the realization that our husbands are really gone and not coming back hits us so hard.
ReplyDeleteLauren, I think about that very often. It's hard but every morning I wake up I thank God and say "another day closer to seeing my J again." Saying this or thinking it gives me hope.
ReplyDelete❤ Marisol