... for falling in love again?
Ummmm ...... not so much.
I've heard and read a lot about this topic lately.
I've seen what others have written about it.
And I've seen quite a bit of guilt.
Why do we do that to ourselves?Read more
I should be sitting in one of these chairs this week, it's spring break. I'm not, but my little guy will be heading to the beach with my parents tomorrow and he's looking forward to the trip. I am guiltily looking forward to three days on my own.Read more
spent the evening talking
to someone in the same predicament.
sometime during the call
i felt this incredible guilt,
I wanted to touch base on guilt, as I believe it has played a role in my grief with Michael's loss.
The guilt that he died and I lived.
The guilt of the things he never got to experience that I now have been.
The guilt of having eyes to still see this world's beauty and ears to hear its melodies.
The guilt of knowing that he would have handled this pain, loss, and life better than I could, if it had been me to go instead.
In a bid to exercise positive thinking, I have borrowed an idea I read on another widow's blog (unfortunately I can't give the widow credit as I cannot, for the life of me, find were one of my midnight rambles through the blogosphere took me - If it was you, please let me know, so I can give you credit!) and list some of the better positive ....not-so-crappy things about widowhood and the experiences that have happened.Read more
I loved being married. Knowing that I shared a commitment with my husband to face life together, come what may, was a daily comfort to me. I didn't miss dating; I didn't long for freedom; I didn't feel limited; I didn't fear slipping into complacency. Looking back, I even miss the hard work that was required to create a harmonious union. Phil and I weren't the picture of married perfection, but even our imperfections were unique to us, and I miss those too (well, sometimes).Read more
There are many days, weeks and months that the grief that was born after Jeff's death has crippled me. Days that no matter what I do, the sadness and loss steal over me and infect every thought and movement with pain. Weeks where I can feel nothing but the ache that has accompanied this journey and months in which the sorrow manages to reek despite all my attempts to banish it.
But I also have days where I am stuck, floating, unsure of any feeling at all. I know the pain lurks somewhere below. I am aware that I am hurting and broken. But I am unable to feel.