3 months

August 28, 2014

Three months ago today my sweet John was taken from me.

I’m still really broken. A couple of days ago, for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if he was still here. I thought I was going to vomit. Most of you don’t see me cry. I cry when I’m by myself. I cry when I have time and space to play his music and look at pictures of him. I can’t cry all the time. In fact, in order to survive, I try to laugh as often as possible. In the last three months I have been sillier and laughed more than ever before. This is necessary… I must embrace whatever light I can, else the darkness will sweep me away.

It still feels like I’m moving in slow motion. Other widows tell me it’s the same for them for a while. So much energy goes to my grief, I have little energy for day to day tasks. I get things done, but only at about 1/3 of my lightning pace from the past. If I seem confused, spacey, or slow, then know that I will be this way for a while.

Today I’m heading out to our land to go camping with the girls. Packing up for the trip without John has been hard. It will be wonderful to be there with the kids, but there will be many tears. Nothing says John like our land and the half finished one room cabin that he and Michael were building. I know I will feel his presence strongly there, which will be heartbreaking and soothing both at the same time.

Thank you all for continuing to support me. I’m not out of the woods yet. I’m still fragile and overwhelmed by my ocean of sorrow. Sometimes the grief is so big, I don’t know where to put it all. The love from all of you has been life saving. Even if you don’t see me cry, know that I still need you, and will for a long time.

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