Fooling Myself?

I don't think I'm "fooling" myself into thinking that all is well and okay in "Jodi-Land".

But I have been doing pretty good lately...in the grand scheme of things, anyways. If I look back to 9 months, 6 months, even 3 months ago? Things are so much better in my world today.

But sometimes things still hurt. Not as often. But it still hurts.

Some days. Some nights. Some of them hurt worse than others.

When that happens (when ANYTHING happens) I tend to analyze the shit out of it. I need to know who, what, when, where, how, and why. WHY is tonight different...or worse...than others? I mean, I really have been doing better lately. So how did this sneak up on me?

I know the answer. It's just the nature of the beast. I know that even the most stable, level-headed person in the world would experience these ups and downs. No matter how much I want to fight it. No matter how much I want it to just be over with. No matter how much I don't want to feel it anymore...ever again. (I can't go back to that intense pain of the first weeks and months...I don't think I could survive it now.)

It's the way it happens. And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I let it run its course. And then I continue on with life. With MY life. I couldn't control what was happening a year ago. I couldn't change it then. So I definitely can't change it now.

These are the times I guess I just need to roll with it. Accept it. In a strange way, I need to embrace it...in order to heal grief, you DO have to embrace the pain. You almost have to be friends with it. You simply have to deal with it.

Simply? Well, there is nothing simple about it. It is complicated. But it's a simple concept...IF...if you're not the one dealing with it. That's how I'm dealing with it lately. From a rational, intellectual standpoint. That's so much easier. Because the emotional side of it really sucks.

I "know" how to deal with it. I'm a reader. I'm a researcher. Basically, I've done my homework. Along with some extra credit points thrown in for good measure. I know (rationally) that every stupid little thought or feeling I have is quite normal. I know what to expect. I know that it will hit me when I least expect it. I know not to take the good times for granted. I know they won't last forever. I know that, even during my worst days, I will persevere. I will survive. I will even thrive...more than I ever expected.

But it can still knock me to the ground...on my knees...when I least expect it.

It does really suck. And I'm tired. I'm tired of dealing with it. I'm tired of being kicked and knocked down. Especially when I start to feel like I'm making some progress. When I'm finally able to envision a life...a future. For me. For the boys.

I've been very hopeful lately. Do I dare admit that I've even had many, many moments of optimism? I mean, you get the hand you're dealt. What else can you do except play it out?

I don't want to sound as if I feel that my life, my future, my outlook are all shitty...or second-best now. That's not the case at all. As a matter of fact, I'm probably more optimistic about my future (the second half of my life) than I have been in quite awhile now. Sometimes...many times...I even get excited about the possibilities that lie ahead of me. I absolutely have to find the positive in this situation. I have to.

If I can't do that? Well, what's the point then?

This has been lingering and festering in me for a couple of weeks. I knew it would happen. I expected it. I would've been shocked if I didn't experience these feelings at this point in time.

Everyone. And I mean EVERYONE is aware of the time-frame. The date. The "Anniversary". We all know it's looming overhead...like some dark storm cloud. You can see it. You can feel it. You know it's there. You're just waiting for it to bust the F#%* open. You've got your umbrella ready. But you're not quite sure if that umbrella will be enough to protect you through this storm that threatens you.

Okay.

Nothing has happened to make me feel this way tonight. Not a single event anyways. But it IS that time of year. The holidays are coming. Chris' Mom is really sick...with Hospice involved.

Things can be really bad right now. Or I can look at the positive.

There is some positive.

Number One...I'm breathing. I'm alive.

Number Two...The kids are healthy. I'm healthy.

Number Three...I've got an opportunity to make the rest of my life whatever I want it to be. I can do anything. I can be anything. It's a big world out there.

There are many more positives. I don't have it in me to even go there tonight.

2 weeks from today marks "The Day".

And I have to decide...soon...what I want to say for the one year memorial posting in the newspaper. That should be an easy task.

So why can't I figure it out? Why is it so difficult?

I hope I haven't been fooling myself all along...but sometimes I wonder...

Views From the "Other" Side

I wrote this 5 days ago, on October 15th. I wanted to wait to post it out of respect for Chris and his family. He has a couple of friends and acquaintances who might read this so I wanted to give him time to tell them himself...

This was a hard blow. 3 days before the one year mark that we made that "final drive home". If you had told me last year on October 15th that I would be taking Chuck home to just wait to die 3 days from now? I would've said you are f#*%ing crazy.

If you would've said to me last October 15th that, in a year from now, not only would my husband be dead...but I would be emotionally invested in another man and his impending loss? Then you would've been certifiably insane in my book.

But this is life...and death. And sometimes things don't always go as planned.

Wow.

I've realized for the last several weeks that these next few dates were coming up.

October 16th...our trip to our 3rd (and final) Emergency Room. Trying to desperately find answers. Hearing the dreaded "C" word for the first time. The first REAL sense of fear.

October 18th...after a terrible day the day before, with all of the intrusive and uncomfortable testing and a bout with pneumonia. Bad fever, cold chills, sweating, dangerously high pulse rate. That was such a scary night. But he began feeling better the next morning after being loaded up with IV antibiotics. A small sense of hope.

Then the visit from the oncologist that stole that hope right from our hands in an instant.

Then, finally, that long, long drive home from the hospital. That drive where I was taking him home to just wait to die. The Death Drive.

I knew those dates were coming. I didn't know they would be on my heels this quickly. But here they are, looming overhead. The realization came to me some time this afternoon that tomorrow marks the date of the beginning of the final leg of his journey.

And then.....

Wow.

It's almost too surreal.

A little background first. The man I've been seeing, the one I've become very fond of, the one I have grown to care about so very much, Chris.....his Mom has been battling cancer for awhile now. At least for the better part of this year. She has gone through surgery, chemo, and I think radiation. All of the typical cancer treatments. As far as I can tell, she has had her ups and downs. One moment...hopeful. The next moment...full of despair. And probably every imaginable emotion in between.

She just finished her last round of chemo a couple of weeks ago. She hasn't been willing to throw in the towel yet. She even had a goal to gain her strength back and get back to work as a teacher by November 1st.

She got admitted back into the hospital a couple of days ago. I think they have all begun to give in to the idea that this won't be cured. But there has still been hope. Even if it is a very small amount of hope...at least that's something, right?

I just got word that she is coming home from the hospital tonight. For the last time. There is nothing more that can be done to help her. Without knowing the details, it sounds like it won't be long.

And it breaks my heart. For her. For him. For his brothers and sister. Her grandchildren. For the whole family. Her friends. For her students...and former students. Her co-workers. For everyone whose lives have been touched by this woman.

I haven't lost a parent. (And she is the last parent they have left.) But I know how heartbreaking that drive home from the hospital is. I know what the short-term future is going to be like for this family. I know that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. I know the gut-wrenching sobs that hit you out of the blue but you have to hold in until you're alone. I know the panic. The sadness. The pleading with God. The not knowing when. (That's got to be the worst.) Okay, maybe the helplessness and hopelessness are the absolute worst. That need that you HAVE to do something, ANYTHING, yet there is nothing you can do. The absolute worst desperation of your life.

To Chris and the rest of your family...I'm here. Whatever it is that you need that I'm capable of giving. And I know. I really do know. And, most of all, I'm sorry. I'm so very, very, incredibly sorry. Thank you for giving me the privilege of meeting your Mom. Even though it was only just one time, that meant the world to me. It was so important to me. I mean, I just had to meet the woman who was responsible for raising four kids into such loving, positive adults and close-knit, fun-loving siblings. That's an amazing legacy and a true testament to her character.

Man, I absolutely hate this. I hate for anyone to have to endure this. Especially now...after experiencing it myself.

I think I am beginning to understand how my loved ones felt for us. Wanting to do anything in their power to take the pain away, yet feeling almost as hopeless and helpless as we did...because there was nothing anyone could do.

This whole set of circumstances brings so many things flooding back into my head and into my heart. Maybe that's why it hurts so much. A mixture of seeing someone I admire and care about so much hurting...and the way it brings my own recent history back to the forefront.

I wasn't prepared to have cancer or illness or death or any of those nasty things invade my life again so soon. Although it hasn't been in as big of a way as it could've been, that's exactly what has happened. Chris has been there for me in so many ways. He has enjoyed my bright, happy times. He has watched me grow and take steps toward healing and make tremendous strides. All while being my biggest cheerleader along the way. ("Team Jodi"!!!) He has also been there through my many, very low points. As he still is. Making sense out of the senseless things. Calming me when I needed it. Giving me a shoulder (literally) to cry on. Assuring me that I'm not "crazy" as I question my sanity. Setting boundaries when I need them the most. Helping me to learn to stand on my own two feet.

Yeah...I don't think I would be as far as I am today if it weren't for his strength and support.

It is a huge risk to open your heart to love. You are risking being hurt again. No matter what this brings up for me though, it is worth it. He is worth it.

So I am determined to be there in any way I can. I am strong enough to share the burden. While I can't share it equally because I'm in a very distant position and still brand new (an outsider) to this family, I am willing to take on any of it that I can. I have become a much more compassionate person because of my recent experiences. For that, I am grateful.

I just want to do the right things. I want to say the right things.

Thank you to all of you who made your best attempts to help our family through the roughest moments. Even the most unsure and feeble attempts at support didn't go unnoticed. I've finally gotten a better appreciation of how very hard it was for you.

Thank you.

To Chris' Mom (even though she will never read this) thank you for raising such a compassionate, happy, loving, caring and positive son.

And, to you Chris, thank you for all that you've done for me. I'm here.

I'm always here.

Happy Birthday to Me

Damn.

I didn't know my birthday would bring so many mixed emotions.

I'm going to Chicago tomorrow. I've never been there before. I really haven't been much of anywhere...at least not in the last 20 years.

I'm so excited about it. I just know I'm going to have a great time.

For the last few days, I've been feeling anxious. I know it all has to do with that "this-time-last-year" syndrome. I knew I wanted/needed to visit the cemetery on my birthday.

But I will be in Chicago on my birthday.

So I went today. In the rain. And the gloom.

I sat in the car most of the time. I talked to him. I cried. I told him how I remembered last year's birthday. I remembered how he promised me that "next year's birthday will be better...I promise".

He was right.

It will be better.

Just not in the way I assumed when the conversation took place.

I apologized to him that this year's birthday will be better. I recognized the fact that I will be 38 years old tomorrow. An age that he will never know me as. I told him that I could feel his Happy Birthday wishes to me.

I wouldn't be going to Chicago tomorrow if he hadn't died. But he did. He died. And I'm going to Chicago tomorrow morning. With another man. A man I am beginning to love very much.

And it confuses me.

But I visited the cemetery and I got it out of my system...

For now.

Now I feel a little bit of release. And freedom. Freedom to have a good time and enjoy every single moment of this weekend.

I'm allowed.

It's okay.

I'm still alive.

And I intend to make the most out of every moment of this life...this new life.

I'm sorry he's not here. I'm sorry for him...for me...for the kids...for his family...for my family. But there isn't a damn thing I can do to change that fact.

Instead of feeling sorry, guilty, or plain old sad...I'm going to appreciate the fact that I have this opportunity. That I can go and put my grief aside for the next 48 hours. That I'm not spending this birthday all alone and depressed.

It's definitely bittersweet.

It's just another one of those "firsts".

Thank God those firsts are almost over with.

An Unfamiliar Path

I went to the park again today. I walked 4 miles on a trail I have never been on before.

Maybe it was just my perspective or my frame of mind today (which is more positive than it has been lately...thank God). Or maybe I'm just becoming fond of great analogies (you know who you are!) ;) But I couldn't help but apply several things I observed to what has been going on in my life over the past year.

It began when I got to the trail head. I had to make a choice which way I wanted to go.

Shortly after I began my walk, I noticed a huge uprooted tree. I couldn't help but think this is exactly what happened to life-as-I-knew-it on October 18th, 2008. My life, my home, my family, my world. Everything was uprooted. Nothing would ever be the same again.

I continued on. I came to a point a couple miles in that was kind of hilly. I went down a somewhat steep hill with great ease and speed. When I reached the bottom, it curved. I could tell that, right after that curve, I would then have to go back uphill. So I tried to keep my momentum going so as to make the uphill part a bit easier. It worked until I got about halfway up. I slowed down and even struggled a bit...but I made it back up to the top.

That is how I've been figuratively living. Ups and downs. Gaining speed. Struggling. Finding strength when I need it most.

My path eventually took me to a different type of environment. To a more even path. A prettier path. This is what I saw ahead of me. Although I had never walked this path before, it was clear where I was headed. I didn't know what was ahead of the bend in the path but I figured it was safe to assume that the path would continue on until I reached the end.

At that point, I had no clue how far I'd gone or how much further I had to go. All I could do was keep walking forward. But I had surely made progress. So I turned around to look at where I had just come from. To see that I have, indeed, been moving forward.

That's when I noticed the contrast in the shady and the sunny areas of this path. When I found myself in the sunny parts, it was so bright that I needed my sunglasses. But in the shade? It felt almost eerie at times. It could be so dark even though I knew that the sun was shining brightly somewhere up above. I can't tell you how many times I've felt that contrast in my life lately. And it can change in the blink of an eye...many times throughout a day.

Well, I rounded that curve and found that I had company! I wasn't completely alone after all. (It was kind of funny...that little deer was no more than 7 or 8 feet away from me when I saw it and it scared the shit out of me at first. LOL)

A little further along, I came upon a bench. A place to sit and rest for awhile if one was too tired to continue on. Or if you just wanted to sit and reflect on your surroundings...on where you've been and where you're going next. Notice how this bench was in a bright, sunny spot.

And then another bench. In one of the darker, more somber spots on this path. Sometimes you might want to sit and reflect in those darker places too. Maybe especially in those places. After all, it is the less sunny areas that tend to make you feel more sluggish and tired and more in need of rest.

You truly do have to pay attention to where you walk on this path. If you veer off to the side in either direction, you may stumble into a small ditch.

Other parts of the same trail were free of hazards like rocks and tree roots sticking out of the ground. Luckily, that seemed to happen when my attention needed to be focused somewhere other than where each step would land. Such as when danger lurked precariously overhead. (I swear, all it would take is a strong breeze and that thing was coming down!)

Along the way, there are plenty of directional markers...just to let you know that, yes, you are still on the correct trail, which way you need to go next, and that if you just continue to trudge along, you will eventually get to your destination.



















Sometimes, there are even reminders of how far you've come.



















I also discovered that sometimes you can come across a pleasant little surprise...something that you never even knew was there when you began your journey.



















Today's walk was good for me. (And I'm discovering that I really enjoy this walking in the park thing!) It reminded me that, although I don't know what lies ahead of me around all of the twists and turns, I have an idea of the general direction I'm headed. I've found that there are helpful reminders scattered about when I'm not sure which way to go. I've learned that, even when I'm in a valley, I can always make it back up to the top. I've learned that it's okay to trip sometimes...as long as I don't fall completely down. (And even if I do fall...it's okay as long as I pick myself back up.) I've realized that I'm never truly alone. And that it's okay to sit still and rest for awhile if I need to...as long as I don't stay in one spot too long.

I've learned that, while I do have a destination in mind, it's so important to be present where you are at on your journey right this very moment.

I'm trying to be present and enjoy and embrace every little detail. Even when I'm sitting on that shady bench for a little while.

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.