A Walk in the Park

I've had a few down days this week. Yesterday morning I got to the point where I just needed to get out of the house and do something different. I needed to break out of the routine of just sitting here bummed out and not getting anything accomplished.

So I decided to go to the park and take a walk.

No big deal. Just a simple walk. I didn't think it would change my mood much but I was willing to give it a try. So I set off with just my thoughts and my music playing in my earphones. (Music is one thing I don't think I would want to live without...it's that important to me!)

To be surrounded by nothing but nature can be breathtaking. Sometimes I just stopped and looked up. Way up.

Standing in the midst of those tall trees reminded me what a big world this is...and how small we all really are!

I had a nice walk. A nice 3-mile walk. I felt my heart pumping the blood through my body. I felt the fresh air going deep into my lungs. I felt alive. I felt good.

As I neared the end of my walk, I came upon the small shelter house I had sat in the very first time I ever visited this particular park. It was about 20 summers ago. At that point in time, Chuck and I were nurturing our brand new relationship. He couldn't wait to introduce me to this park...he had been there many times before.

So I stood there and looked at that little building for a couple of minutes and reminisced as I listened to this song:




I Believe ~ Diamond Rio

Every now and then soft as breath upon my skin
I feel you come back again
And its like you haven't been gone a moment from my side
Like the tears were never cried
Like the hands of time are holding you and me
And with all my heart I'm sure we're closer than we ever were
I don't have to hear or see, I've got all the proof I need
There are more than angels watching over me
I believe, I believe

That when you die your life goes on
It doesn't end here when you're gone
Every soul is filled with light
It never ends and if I'm right
Our love can even reach across eternity
I believe, I believe

Forever, you're a part of me
Forever, in the heart of me
And I'll hold you even longer if I can
The people who don't see the most
Say that I believe in ghosts
And if that makes me crazy, then I am
cause I believe
There are more than angels watching over me
I believe, I believe

I got a little sad. A little teary-eyed. And then I saw something out of the corner of my eye.






















2 small deer.

And that made me smile.

That gave me some peace.

I was then able to turn back around and look at that small building and remember my very first trip to that park. And I was able to smile about it instead of feeling sad. I was able to continue walking past that building with my head high and my shoulders straight. With a purpose in my step, a slight smile on my face, and gratitude and love in my heart.

I've read about this concept in many grief books and I could never quite understand what they meant when they said you know you are beginning to heal when memories make you smile instead of cry.

I get it now.

It doesn't mean that memories will never again make me sad...

But it's a start.

Old Letters

Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.
~Anonymous


More than kisses, letters mingle souls.
~John Donne


Well, I put my mind to it and got most of it done today.

The closet is emptied of all of his personal belongings. So is the dresser. Now I have a couple of stacks of storage tubs and cardboard boxes in my bedroom. They will probably sit there for awhile. At least until I find room in the attic to store them. Or until I sift through them again and narrow the "keepers" down to a more manageable quantity.

He didn't have tons of personal stuff. When he was sick, he talked a little about what items he could give to others. He drew a blank most of the time. Maybe, eventually, I will pass on a couple of his favorite shirts to his closest family members...if they'd like one. Right now, I need to be selfish with his things.

There were a few times the task got to be overwhelming. Whenever I started feeling like it would be best to wash everything and hang it back up, I would sit and take a break. (Because if I had washed everything and hung it back up, I would even start to question my sanity!) During one of my breaks, I pulled the steel box that he always kept all of his old coins and a few other cherished items off of the closet shelf. I sat down on the bed to go through it once again. I've already been through it a few times since he died. But this time, I looked at some of the items more closely.

His birth certificate was in there. And a couple of cards his mother made for him last summer. And a few letters I wrote to him after he got arrested last summer. I wrote one of them while he was in jail for the weekend. I wrote a couple others when he stayed at his mother's house...when the "No Contact Order" was in place. I was amazed at the similarities in the circumstances now...and then. I could only shake my head in astonishment. And I kept thinking to myself it was as if that experience was some sort of trial run...some sort of primer...practice...for my life now.

Here are some excerpts from those letters:

I just woke up. I slept for about an hour and a half, I guess. It's 4:00 now. I thought I'd wake up feeling better. Instead, I started crying 5 minutes after I got up because I can't call you. I feel like I should just try to go back to sleep until I have to go to work. What a life. I keep worrying that you must be bored -- and lonely. Are you doing okay?

. . . . .

I just need to be with you. I can't do this for 2 more weeks or even longer. I know I don't have a choice.

. . . . .

Hi! I miss you -- I love you! I don't know about you, but my emotions are all over the place. I go from being angry one minute to feeling like everything will work out okay. And then I mostly just get sad. God, Chuck, I am so sad. I break down and cry so many times during the day. I feel like I can't even BREATHE without you. I would do anything in the world to make this all go away. I feel like I want to die. I am just putting one foot in front of the other. So it feels like I'm not really living anyways. I can hardly eat. I puke when I try to. I can't watch tv. I can't play games on the computer. I have a hard time delivering my route because I can't concentrate. I can't pay attention to the dogs or the kids. I am just a miserable f$%#ing mess. Even when I sleep, this is all I dream about.

. . . . .

I miss you so much. I miss holding you and touching you. It kills me to hear your voice and not be able to talk to you. I miss the way you make me laugh with your one-liners!
When all of this is over (yes, I know it will be eventually) I never want to spend one more night away from you. I swear to you -- I will NEVER EVER take you for granted. I will appreciate having you as my husband each and every day. Even when we disagree, I will still appreciate the fact that, at the end of the day, we still have each other. I mean that!

. . . . .

This just doesn't seem fair. I feel like I've been widowed over night. I love you and I miss you and I'm really upset. I'm upset at myself and I'm upset at every little circumstance that led up to this mess. Right now it doesn't seem like it will ever be over.

. . . . .

I just want to remind you to keep your chin up. We will have our life back soon! And I believe it will be better than it was before. Do you know why? I've always known I love you without a doubt. But this whole thing has made me realize that I love you even more than I thought possible. These people that are trying to destroy us??? Well, they are only making us stronger! Nobody will ever again try to keep me from you. Once I have you back, I will never spend another night without you by my side until the day one of us dies. That's a promise! Just remember -- the sacrifices we have to make right now are a small price to pay to have the whole rest of our life together! We are going to be just fine -- together!

. . . . .

It's just so strange how I wrote those things only about 5 months before he died. It's the first time I read those letters since I wrote them.

Some things I said are pretty ironic, aren't they?

After reading the letters, I continued to go through the rest of the stuff in that box. I found a pocket watch. It was the one I gave him on one of our first Christmas' together. That thing quit working a long time ago but he always kept it. Tucked away. In that steel box. I decided to open it for the first time in many years. Guess what time that watch stopped at? 4:06. 4-freaking-06! Unbelievable. (If you don't know the significance of that number, it was his old clock number when he worked at Midas. It was the number that always seemed to come up for him. He noticed it so often that he always said he should play it in the daily lottery.)

At first I was shocked. I just shook my head. And then it gave me goosebumps. After that it gave me a little smile. I normally wouldn't have opened that watch. I guess I waited for the right moment to do it. Right when I needed it most. Right after I had been questioning whether I was really ready to pack everything up. Right when I considered washing everything and putting it back where it belongs.

It gave me the strength to continue. It gave me the strength to finish. And it gave me a sense of peace like you wouldn't believe.

It's odd how many moments of peace I've gotten from random "coincidences". Ever since that very first day with the deer and the two pennies.

Maybe these "coincidences" aren't so random after all?

Letting go...one article of clothing at a time

Well.

I did it.

I got started.

I've been having a string of really good days lately. Even with this stupid cold and everything. I've been getting things accomplished. I've been feeling MUCH better.

So, today, I figured I would start with the small stuff in the closet. And the dresser.

F#(*!!!!!

Much harder than I even thought. (And I knew it wouldn't be easy.)

Well, at first it was easy. I started at the back of the closet. The things that he kept "just in case" he needed to dress up for something.

No big deal. I said to myself, "Well, this is going good. I CAN do this."

I piled all of the dress pants that Eddy (his son) has sent him the last few years. He did wear a couple of them. But when I look at them? They don't remind me of him.

Mission accomplished.

So I moved on to a few dress shirts. Same as above. No big deal. Either I will find someone who wants/needs them...or they will be donated.

I just made sure that everything is folded neatly. And cared for. Just as he would have if he were still here to own them.

Like I said before, he doesn't have too many personal belongings. He was a pretty basic person. (Nothing wrong with that, is there?) But the things he loved? The things he felt comfortable in?

My God.

They are still there. They are scattered randomly in the middle of all of the other shit. His light blue sweatshirt brought me to my knees. Opening up his dresser drawer with his shorts brought me to my knees. (And his absolute favorite pair was on top of the pile...I always made sure that pair was on top after doing laundry.)

It's been so painful to open up those drawers and that closet door for the last 10 months. Sometimes I just need to.

What is more painful is to see how yellowed and dusty everything is getting with time.

Fu#$ing time.

So I neatly folded and stacked the inconsequential items on the bed.

And then I had to take a break. I took my break. I was bound and determined to make some serious progress with this task though.

So I went back in.

I took out his old work shirts. And a few of his favorites. Yet not his ultimate favorites. (You know what I mean...we all have them.) I couldn't even take them off the god damn hangers. They are ON TOP OF the stacks of neatly-folded and never-worn items. Still on hangers. Still yellowed with time. Still dusty.

Those items were in the bi-weekly laundry pile...yet they are yellow and dusty? Doesn't make sense, does it?

Reality.

So now those piles and those clothes on hangers still sit piled up on my bed. MY bed. HIS stuff.

Maybe if I haven't been having so many good-days-in-a-row going on, it would be easier to just throw those piles to the side and get a great night's sleep. But the fact that I'm feeling pretty happy and excited about my life? My future? I somehow can't toss those clothes to the side like they mean nothing. I have enough guilt about clearing them out.

(I know I've said there are things I don't want to share publicly...but one of the few things he spoke of after he knew he would die? He said to me, "So, are you going to get rid of my pillows when I'm gone?"...THAT, to me, meant he didn't want me to get rid of anything of his. Maybe I took it wrong. But THAT is exactly why THIS is so difficult.)

I hope he understands now.

I really hope he understands.

I'm still alive. I NEED to do this.

(I'm so sorry, Chuck. I really am. But I HAVE to do this. To heal. To move on. To be okay. It's time. If it upsets you, please forgive me.)

God, I hope he sees things different now.

I keep thinking that maybe I need to ask someone else to just come over and pack all of it up and get it out of my sight. It's so tempting.

But I can't.

This is something that I will eventually have to face. By myself. I mean, I have to weed through this stuff and choose what to keep for myself, what to keep for the boys, and what to donate. If I do it now, it will give me more of a sense of strength. I could use that feeling every now and then. After all, everyone tells me how strong I am. Shouldn't I feel it for myself?

I just want to know that he's okay with everything I'm doing now. I don't have an ulterior motive. I'm not trying to forget. But when a physical item or items are causing a person more pain than comfort? It's time.

It's time.

Letting go is so fucking hard. (Sorry, Mom...I couldn't bleep it out that time.)

I'm just trying to let go. I have to. Not letting go will keep me miserable. Keep me stuck.

I have to let go. One piece at a time. One shirt at a time.

It's painful. But so necessary. If I don't? I will die. It will kill me. The pain of letting go will be worth it in the end.

I will get through it. If you understand? Great. If not? I'm sorry. I can't make you understand any better than I've tried.

I HAVE to let go of this. It's just "stuff". Sure, it was HIS "stuff". But I have to do this.

So, please, don't judge me or my actions.

I have to live. I'm still alive. My heart is still beating. I'm here.

He's not.

I CAN'T HELP THAT!!!!!!

Nobody can change that.

In the meantime, I need to do what I need to do.

No matter how painful it is.

I'm Trying...To Dance, Love, Sing, and Live

I don't even have a specific topic I want to write about tonight. Just random thoughts, I guess. Feelings I need to DO something with. And this is what I do when something doesn't feel right. I write about it.

Maybe it's this "one year ago today" shit surfacing. Maybe it's the fact that I'm sick with the latest cold bug flying around. Maybe it's the lack of a normal routine in my life. Or maybe it's all of the above...plus a little more added in.

I haven't taken a single clothing item off of a hanger or out of a dresser yet. I went to the store to buy the plastic storage containers the other day and basically had a full-blown panic attack in the middle of Walmart. He doesn't have a lot of stuff. I think about the things that he never wore...things that I can't picture him wearing, but he kept them just in case he ever needed them. Those things would be easier to get rid of than his favorites. But paying $16 to hold everything that was him? His life? It really freaked me out.

And I'm just going to shove them up in the attic?

Hell, maybe I'm not ready yet. But I feel like I need to do this. BEFORE the one year mark hits.

Speaking of the one year mark...(11/11) HOW do I spend that day? What do I do to commemorate it? Is that even proper? To commemorate That Day? Commemorate means:


to serve as a memorial or reminder of

according to dictionary.com.

Yeah, I guess that's the word I'm looking for.

But the very word itself...commemorate. It almost sounds like the word "celebrate". There is no celebration.

I can only think of how those last 26 hours were spent. I think of the 2 phone calls I had to make...to his mom and my mom. (I knew at that point that they would take it from there...passing the word on...it's all I could handle.) I had no clue that so many people would show up to stand vigil at his side. I don't know why I didn't think they would. He was very loved.

I thought it would be just me there.

I was scared. I was so very scared.

And helpless. So helpless.

I tried to keep my cool. I tried to pretend that this was "old-hat" or "normal". I tried to pretend that it was okay. That I had come to some sort of acceptance with the situation.

Yeah. Right. In 24 days? It hadn't even sunk in yet.

I planned part of his burial while he still breathed. I had to sneak into the next room to talk about this stuff. It broke my heart. But it was dealing with "business" that needed to be dealt with.

How the F@#$ did I deal with it? Let alone to grasp the whole concept.

I never really accepted it. At the time. I just dealt with the things that needed to be dealt with.

Do I accept it now? I hope so. I'm trying, anyways. It does complicate things. My life. It gives me issues. It brings up new issues. And allows the old ones to resurface. It is very, VERY complicated.

In simpler terms, it sucks. It absolutely sucks.

If you would like to get a feel for what I have been dealing with, I recommend reading "Good Grief" by Lolly Winston. You can get it at your local library. If I had read this a year ago? I would think she's crazy. But I find my head nodding in agreement quite often while reading this book. She is not a widow but she really must have done her research. Somebody...or several people...really expressed themselves well to her for her to have written such a poignant, funny and realistic novel on all things related to widowhood.

Maybe you won't "get" the funny parts. I do though.

It will give you a little insight to my psyche. A little window into my mind and into my soul. Maybe you won't appreciate it as much as I do. But it makes me realize that I'm not crazy.

I'm just a widow.

A much-too-young widow trying to find her way out of the depths of hell.

I'm fighting the good fight. Kicking and screaming all the way. I don't expect any more from myself than that.

And I'm doing a damn good job of it.

I'm stronger than I ever thought I could be. I will survive. I will thrive. I will learn. I'm a thinker.

Please just have patience with me. I need patience. I need to do this at my own pace. My world has been turned upside down. I will have good days and bad days. Accept them for what they are. And, PLEASE, whatever you do...don't be afraid to talk about him. Sometimes I NEED to talk about him.

There is no pretending that he never existed.

After all, when I'm gone, I would like for others to remember me.

Every day. In some way.

I would like to know that I made a difference in someone's life. After we're gone, all we have left is our legacy. That is my goal. To live my life, be as happy as possible, and leave a positive legacy.

I'm doing that the best way that I know how.

Just as he did.

He did the best that he could at that time.

You have to respect a man for that. He lived his life the best way he knew how to at the present moment.

I just wish that I didn't have to learn such a valuable lesson from him...from his untimely death. But if anyone were to be the one to teach me that, it would be him. I've learned so much.

I only wish he was here to see the results of this "lesson".

In 10 days, it will have been a year since we met my mother-in-law for lunch...after picking her up from the tire store. We went to lunch at Applebee's. I know. I still have all of the receipts.

It felt like such a struggle to get an answer...what was causing his pain.

I wish I never knew that f@(*ing answer.

But it happened.

Knowing or not knowing the answer wouldn't have changed the outcome.

His back hurt. BAD. Really, really bad. It irritated me. Then it worried me.

I never thought he would DIE from a backache.

UN-F#$%ing-REAL.

Hold your loved ones close. Never assume anything. And whatever you do, don't forget to appreciate what exactly it is that they bring to your life.

Never.

You never know what can happen. Here today. Gone tomorrow.

I am turning into the best me that I can be. I just really wish that it didn't take him dying for that to happen.

Too little, too late? Perhaps.

But his death...and his life...will not be in vain. I will never forget the "lesson" this has taught me.

Dance like there's nobody watching
Love like you'll never get hurt
Sing like there's nobody listening
Live like it's heaven on earth
And speak from the heart to be heard.

We never talked about that. But that IS his legacy to me. My lesson. I'm always learning...always evolving.

That's how I go on. That's how I want to live. That is his final gift to me.

Thank you.

I can still look at the big picture...still work on those goals I have. But I can still live for today. Tomorrow might never come for me. But I have to live as if it will. I will enjoy every positive moment that I can. I will accept the negative for what it is.

But I will live. Dancing as if no one is watching. Loving as if I will never get hurt. Singing like there is no one listening. Living like it's heaven on earth.

And speaking from the heart to be heard.

I need to be heard. I need to be understood.

It's Been A Little While

A friend (Hi, Becky!) mentioned that I haven't been blogging much lately. But I've gotten over halfway through a 70-page spiral notebook in about a week. (Not including the many saved drafts I've got on here that I never finished and published.) It's just one of those times when I choose not to share things publicly.

You see...I've hit that "stage" of grief that I never understood. The anger stage. I think I've been somewhat stuck for awhile now. So if it's necessary to feel anger to continue healing, then bring it on.

I mean, I've been angry at God. Many, many times. And I can't possibly be angry at Chuck for dying. He wanted to live in the worst way. But I'm finding other things to be angry about. Things that used to just make me sad.

I choose not to share those feelings with everyone because, well, I don't want to talk in a negative manner about anything that has to do with him. I have enough guilt for even thinking and feeling those things in the first place.

Let me just say that there are things he could have worded different that would have made my life easier now instead of feeling so torn. That's the reason it's so hard to put away any of his belongings. That's the reason it was so difficult to get involved in this new relationship (which is going quite well, by the way).

I mean, I understand. He was shocked. He was scared. I can't even imagine the intensity of his emotions.

I. Can't. Even. Imagine.

And he only had a few weeks to process that information. Can you imagine being told that you are going to die? How would you react? I can only hope now that he has a greater understanding. I hope that he accepts every decision I make...even if it goes against everything he asked from me. All I can say is that I'm honestly doing the best that I can.

I've made the decision to start putting some of his belongings away. I already put away some of his more personal belongings. His wallet. His comb. His toothbrush. Things like that. I haven't even begun to tackle his dresser and his closet. It just feels like it's time.

Will it be painful? Without a doubt. But it might be more painful to open up his closet and see that his clothes are collecting dust. It's a constant reminder. And it's not that I'm trying to forget that he was here. That he existed and mattered in such a huge way. But I don't want to be reminded, every time I walk into my bedroom, about the hell that we've been through. If I have to keep doing that, I may have to revert back to sleeping on the couch like I did for the first 6 weeks.

I'm not getting rid of anything. I just need to start packing it up and putting it away. I need to make that space my own. Because it is mine now...and only mine. I need to do this in order to start discovering who I am, what I like, what I want, what I need...without him. I need to figure out my life now. My future. Me. And I can't seem to do that when I'm haunted by what was. By what will never be again.

Maybe I'll get it done in a couple of days. Maybe it will take me a month. But I need to do it. I can only hope that it will bring me a little closer to some sort of closure. I can only hope that it brings me a little more peace.

I do know it will bring me pain though. Without a doubt. But I will get through it. It's something I need to do. It will help me to continue to progress. To not get stuck.

I hope he understands. I'm still alive and this is something I need to do to move on.

Under the circumstances that have become my life, I feel pretty damn lucky. I can choose to cry over the loss of my identity. The loss of my life as I knew it and expected it to be until I'm very old. Or I can remind myself how much worse it could be. Under the circumstances, I choose to be grateful for what I DO have. It's not perfect. I still have a lot of things to work through.

But I am moving forward. Through the anger phase and all. Sometimes I slip backwards. And that's okay too. Necessary, even.

It's all a part of the process. It's all a part of my journey.

So in the coming weeks, I will either be blogging more. Or writing more in my personal journal. Either way, I'm working through this.

And it will all be okay. I will be okay.

Good Grief

I mainly only write when I'm feeling bad but today I thought I would give you a glimpse into those times when I'm at the top of the roller coaster.

I've been feeling good the last several days. I've been getting some things accomplished. I've smiled...a lot. I've enjoyed things. I feel relatively "normal". I'm just living life.

Even on these good days, an occasional random thought will cross my mind and I can be in full-fledged crying mode in a split second. And then it will turn off as quickly as it came on. Those episodes used to shock me but I'm getting used to them now. I accept them for what they are and don't let them knock me down for days on end.

I don't feel guilty for laughing or feeling good. Not anymore. I struggled with that one for a long time. I worked through it. I have given myself many pep talks. Now if I start to feel that first twinge of guilt, I just remind myself that I will have plenty of low times so I won't allow guilt to ruin the good days.

In the last couple of weeks, I've discovered my newest issue I need to work through. I'm actually starting to think about taking steps today that will make my future better. Big deal, right? Well, just the fact that I can envision a future for myself is what makes that so amazing. Especially when I've been living as if my life was already over for the last year. A future? I didn't even care about that. It was a struggle just to get through today.

So why do I need to "work through this", you might ask. Well, it's that stupid guilt thing again. I swear grief should be spelled G-U-I-L-T. Call me crazy...but I have these conversations in my head all the time. They go something like this:

It's time to seriously look into getting into school so you can make something of yourself in the future.

How the hell can you even think about having a good future without him?

Because I NEED this...I've been miserable long enough!

Fine...go ahead and go to school. But for God's sake, don't you dare get excited about it!

I know I shouldn't be excited about it but I can't help it.

You know, if he was still here, you wouldn't even be entertaining these crazy ideas.

But he's not here. I have to live for myself now.

But don't you feel terribly guilty for wondering, thinking, even fantasizing about YOUR future as he laid there sick and dying? Knowing that he wouldn't have a future? What kind of terrible person does that?

I've since read that it was a normal component of anticipatory grief. There is nothing for me to feel guilty about. I didn't choose the hand that either one of us were dealt. I can only make the best out of what I've got now. It's okay to get excited. It's okay to be hopeful. I am not doing anything wrong. It's okay to continue living.

Fine. I'll shut up for now. But we're not through discussing this. I'll be right here waiting to finish this conversation the next time you get all worked up about this "future" stuff.

Now...before you get me involuntarily committed, I don't literally hear these voices in my head! But there is a constant internal dialogue going on in there most of the time. When they say that grief is hard work, I think this is what they mean. I am working through many emotions. I am making progress. When I think of the things that used to make me feel guilty in the beginning? I mean, I felt guilty if I enjoyed the taste of a good meal. I felt guilty if I would laugh. And, oh my God, did I feel guilty for getting my hair cut! So, yeah, I'd say I've made progress. At least a little bit.

So I guess even on my good days I am working through grief. By convincing myself that it's okay to have really good days. By making plans for next week, next month, next year. By feeling good about those plans. By hoping. And dreaming. And wishing. With every smile and every laugh, I am working through my grief. I am getting stronger. I'm getting more confident. I'm starting to think I will be okay, after all.

A part of me has been forever changed by all that has happened. But I think I'm going to be okay. No matter what that negative voice in my head has to say about it. I'm alive today. I'm going to get the most out of life that I can. I know what a gift every day is now. I know not to take anyone or anything for granted. Will I slip up from time-to-time? Sure. All I can do is try my best.

I'm slowly pulling that one lingering foot out of the past. Baby steps. And do you know what I think is going to eventually happen? Some day, I'm going to take everything that I've learned, I'm going to gain strength, and I'm going to take off running. Then there will be no stopping me. And I think I might actually like my future life and the future me. A lot. At that point, it will still be okay to turn around and glance at the past...but I don't have to stay stuck in it. I will never forget what it took to get me there. But instead of being devastated by those memories, I will learn to be grateful for them.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel another one of those conversations coming on!

It's okay to imagine not being saddened by the memories...to not cry every single day.

How can you even say that? You want to be grateful that your life is going good because of the way circumstances happened? What the hell is wrong with you? HE HAD TO DIE FOR YOU TO LEARN THOSE THINGS! So, you're glad that he died???

NO!!! That's not what I mean! But if it HAD to happen, I'm glad I can take the lessons that I've learned to improve myself and my life!

Sigh......

Believe it or not, this is a good day. A good grief day.

It's all a part of the process.