Thiswidowlife

Last night I held you as you cried out for him.  Last night you grabbed me as the tears kept coming.  You held me tight, rested your head on my chest. I cried with you because I miss him too. But mostly I cried FOR you, because I know how much you hurt.  This is unfair to you. You are only 9 years old.  You should not have to feel this pain.  You should not have to be without him.  I asked you if you have questions, and you said no, that you just missed him.  I asked you if you understood why he died.  You said, because his liver and kidneys were swollen and he had cancer.  I told you how he fought, and that he never wanted to leave you.  I told you how he is still here in our hearts, and memories.  I told you how much he loves all of us.  We can look at pictures and videos and tell stories if that helps.  I don't know how to help you, but I know you needed to cry.  I told you...

It has been 146 days without him. 20 weeks and 6 days since his last breath. 3,504 hours since I touched his face or held his hand. I am in a new phase of my grief I think. Swinging back around to the shock of it all, but becoming increasingly aware that I have not given Jay the right outlet for his grief and I am mad at myself for taking so long to help him. This is a discovery that is coming out in my weekly counseling sessions. I am realizing how much Jay must be hurting. I think my own hurt and sadness has kept me from seeing that. The more aware I am of it, the more I see how he yearns for his dad. He misses him so much. For a while my flashbacks have been of Jerry, and his sickness, and the hospital and seeing him die. But lately it is the fact that my children where there. They saw all of this too. I am in the process of getting him with new counseling. He was receiving some free counseling at a grief center but only went a few times. I also ordered this book a while back fo...

Lost in this endless sea of waves crashing into me. Sometimes the sea is calm and there are only small ripples splashing around me. I don't always notice them, or I do, but they are just fleeting moments of thought. Then as my back is turned and I am soaking in the sun, a giant wave is barreling towards me. I don't know it's there, I realize it as it hits me and kicks me over and under. Almost drowning in its strength. I kick and flail my arms until I surface. I gasp for air, because I feel like it's been so long since I could take in such a few breath. My chest hurts, I am out of breath. Sometimes as I am recovering from this wave, there is another right behind it. Other times the sea will calm and I have time to regroup and gather myself in preparation for the next big one. I know it will come. This sea is unpredictable and powerful. It doesn't wait for me to be ready, it doesn't go easy on me. I have to be brave. I also have to try and give my children a floa...

We all face a time in our life when a decision has to be made. Whether it be a move, a job, a loss. I have always been able to make rational decisions. I weigh the pros and cons, think long and hard about what is better for everyone affected by this decision, and then I make it. Any adult can tell you that they have done this many, many times. We make decisions, and hope that they are the right ones. We keep our fingers crossed that that outcome is what we envisioned in our head. We hope that we were given enough advice, and taught how to make smart choices in our lives. We try to pass this to our children, who we know will someday have to make these decisions on their own. Then there is the decisions about life and death..... Those are the ones that haunt you. I struggle every day with wondering whether I made all of the right decisions for Jerry. My heart knows that the outcome would have been the same. The Doctors told me that, the outcome would have been the same. I couldn't...

This will probably be the hardest post to write, but I know how it will help me. Every time I write one of these posts, I feel myself moving forward in the grieving process. Today is a hard day for some reason, I feel like I have been on the verge of tears all day. Some days are just like that. I woke up with the vision that is in my head most mornings and it is the moments of Jerrys last breaths. Horrible...how can someone wake up to that every single day and get through the day? It physically hurts every morning to get out of bed. I used to roll over and see his face. I used to feel his arm around me or his leg touching mine. Now I sleep in this bed alone, without him and I can't picture snuggling with him. I see him in the bed sick, and hurting. Maybe this isn't a good day to write this entry...or maybe it will be so raw and emotional that it will help. I don't post many of these since this is when he was sick. He was so skinny. But he was so happy this day. He was...