I haven’t posted in a while.
He’s been gone from this world for 15 months, 10 Days, 8 hours…
My goal this summer has been to enjoy the hot sun, gorgeous weather and all the activity that comes with summer. This meant putting a hold on posts, and focusing on the moment and planning for our next adventure.
We’ve been hiking, swimming, travelling and visiting with friends and family. We’ve plopped ourselves on beaches and experienced the feeling of freedom on a boat. We’ve held baby kangaroos and picked cherries from an orchard. We’ve slept in, stayed up late, played board games, read books and had naps. It’s been a fantastic summer.
We’re three months into the second year without Anthony. So much healing has been done, yet so many new wounds have been discovered or have been re-opened.
I was foolish in thinking the second year would be so much better. I thought somehow magically, after all I’ve read about grief in the first year, that the second year would bring peace, clarity and ongoing joy.
The grief has only changed.
Nothing is better. I mean, atleast not in the way I thought it would be better. Maybe my expectations were unrealistic (wouldn’t be a first!) or Maybe I’m just broken. Maybe I was so focused on surviving the first year, the guilt from choosing to live in the second year is weighing me down. Maybe, there really isn’t an answer and I think too much.
I thought anniversaries would be easier to cope with too. Yet I sit here in my basement praying for time to stop so I won’t have to face tomorrow.
I know what day it is tomorrow. I just don’t want it to get here.
Tomorrow, 12 years ago, we committed to building our lives together. We stood in front of a JP at Gyro Park and read our own vows. My son became our son as he nervously held the rings tied to the little teddy bear that was wrapped tightly in his 7 year old arms.
Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. Tomorrow is gonna suck. The days this week, that paved the way for tomorrow to get here, have left me exhausted, weepy and lonely…. I couldn’t figure out why until last night when I looked at the date.
I still wake up wishing someone would wake me up from this nightmare.
I want to go back to the days I’d wake up to the smell of coffee while Norah Jones played from our CD player. His bright green eyes smiling at me while he ran his fingers through my hair. I want to go back and feel the way it felt to look at him and ignorantly know, THIS is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. I want that ignorance back.
Instead I get to wake up tomorrow remembering how Bipolar made him delusional, psychotic and unpredictable. I get to remember him leaving me and the kids so he could be homeless instead. I get to wake up remembering that we can’t celebrate our 12 year wedding anniversary because he hung himself in his dad’s barn leaving us to remember that image instead.
I can’t avoid tomorrow. So I’ll try to make a point of remembering the man I married that day. I will try to celebrate the good years, and the life I did get to share with him … if only temporarily.