One year gone is just around the corner. Such a conflicted thought. What emotion do I feel first? I’m just not quite sure.
To tell the truth I wasn’t quite sure I’d really survive a year, really, I couldn’t see how such pain could yield anything but darkness. Complete despair is blinding, and hope doesn’t seem to take root. But what I’ve found is that it is more like a bleak winter. Snow, ice, and bitter cold destroy all signs of life but when springtime finally rolls around shoots of life can appear. Sure some things have died completely, but other things begin to flourish again. It’s also a time when new things can be planted, but I’m careful, the shoots are very delicate. Roots not yet established only hold enough nutrients for right now, so easy does it!
Part of me feels ready to burst forth and try to live again, I welcome that, it’s a new feeling. Yet not other parts, hence the conflict. But I hope the good parts will take the lead and the rest follow suit. I need to feel purpose again, feel love again, and continue to actually live. I think my Paul would welcome that, and my heart feels his smile just at the thought. It’s nice to remember him.
I will always remember him.
Some days have joyous written all over them. Some are plain. Some put you in a time warp and take you to that same day in another year, like a familiar smell that triggers your senses. This time last year it was the beginning of the end.
I woke in my cold, sterile motel room near the hospital. It was Mother’s Day; alone I readied myself and began like many before and a few after, coffee then hospital. “Would he be better today?” I’d hope and pray thinking it couldn’t get worse, but it became much worse, 2 more weeks until the end, less till our last sparse conversation.
Those painful times are survived as if they belonged to someone else. This life cannot be mine. What happened? Who took my life away…..
Yet somehow, you do, like surviving the Holocaust, you’re in the same place but it’s all changed, nothing is the same. And after a struggle to breathe you reach out and try to find life again. Never the same, but life none the less. Rebuilding begins.
So now I am not alone on Mothers Day, I am home with my kids, I love that part. They are wonderful. I just may need a few more years for the haunting memories and associations to subside. The one year mark approaching fast, I’m not ready for that. But I am ready to be alive again.
It really truly didn’t kill me…I’d had my doubts.