Let It Be

What a weekend. I stayed so busy with my brother, who I don't see but 2 or 3 times a year, that I didn't have much time to think, or sulk, or wallow in my grief. I had my brother and my parents who were spoiling me, and him, because they were so proud and happy to have us all together. I let myself enjoy the moments, soak in the sun, and feel joy. I let myself escape my life and vacation like a rockstar.

Mark was on my mind every day. I remembered our trips to Chicago and smiled. I missed him and cried in the shower. And I felt like with every step I took, with every new memory I made, I was getting farther away from US and that made me sad but I held it all in. No one likes a killjoy on vacation. I got home late last night, put his urn in bed with me, snuggled up to his pillow, and bawled like a baby, like I could finally let it all out.

Today was his birthday so of course I cried this morning before church, bawled like a baby throughout church, and I'm bawling again now that the day has wound down. I put one foot in front of the other and get through the days, I take it all in and try not to take away from experiences, I try to find and feel joy every day, but the reality of it is sometimes it's harder than others. Evenings and nights are worse than days. Weekends alone are worse than weekends with the kids. Weeks suck because I have to push through work and push my brain to get out of the grief fog that I live in these days. Weekends suck because there's so much unstructured time. I look forward to Fridays because it's the end of the work week, but I hate Fridays because that's when he passed. I'm up and then down and I don't know which way I'm  going most of the time. It's been 5 months and it's getting harder instead of easier.

I miss my life. I miss my happiness that I didn't have to work so hard for. I miss my optimism. You know what I thought about this weekend? Death. Dying. Wills. What if the plane wrecks on landing? That's usually when it happens, you know. What if the uber driver gets in a wreck? Do I want a DNR? DNI? I need to write a will. What if there's a terroristic attack? What if a bird flies into the plane engine and we go down? LET IT BE. Don't worry, I'm not suicidal, I'm just not scared. And I miss my husband something serious. And if it means I get to go home to glory and be with him again then that's fine by me so just let it be.

I hate that he's gone. I hate that he left me! I hate that he broke me, broke my heart into a million pieces and broke my spirit. I hate that he took a good portion of my heart with him when he went and what's left behind is worthless. I hate that I feel like a toddler learning how to do life all over again and I'm 35. I hate that I'm 35 and feel like I'm at least...59. Yup, I feel 59.

I hate this. But it is what it is. It's lonely and ugly and up and down and hopeless and exhausting 95% of the time! But it is what it is so let it be. Whatever will be, will be I suppose.