A Bewitchingly Ordinary Life!

 May 20th was 9 months.   Nine months that you've been gone.  It seems like a lifetime ago on some days.  On other days, it seems as if it was only yesterday. The passage of time brings distance between the tragedy and daily living. It does not bring comfort or healing.  Time doesn't heal all wounds.  I hate that cliche.   It doesn't make it easier to deal with.  Time doesn't do anything really, except march on. Ultimately, as time moves on, we feel left behind. Time doesn't help at all.  I think we've learned to compartmentalize.   This is work.  This is a compartment.  I have X.Y,Z to acccomplish.  I put a smile on.  I pep myself up.  I go on. This is school.  The boys have a subject to do.  They do X,Y,Z.  They put a smile on their face.  They pep themselves up. This is dinner time. This is TV time. This is grocery shopping time. This is laundry time. This is housecleaning time. This is exercise time. This is grieving time. Compartments help.  I don't bel

 That is grief. I know when I'm being irrational in my thoughts. Yet I still ask, I still get mad. I want to scream into the darkness. I want to scream to the heavens. I want to scream to anyone who is listening. "What did you leave us?" "Why didn't you fight harder?" So very irriational.  It wasn't a choice for him to pass away.  It's nothing that could be "fought". But damn, I still want the questions answered. That is the irrationality of grief.

  I had a dream you were alive. I saw pictures of you in my mind, like an old photo rolodex. Flipping through, you were smiling, cigar in hand...various pics with people I did not recognize. You were happy. We found ourselves on a small sailboat in a vast ocean, trying to get to you. But the sea became so stormy and pushed us back to our known shore.  A person on shore is telling us "It's not time, you can't see him yet." I saw the happy pictures again in my mind. I know what it all meant but I am saddened and angry at the same time because I want comfort for our sons. Why won't comfort come? Why. ♫♫♫ The anchor holds Though the ship is battered The anchor holds Though the sails are torn I have fallen on my knees As I faced the raging seas The anchor holds In spite of the storm

  10/17/21   Nearly 2 months have gone by. Some days creep, like slow flowing sediment down a mountain. Other days whirl by in a blur, like a blinding snow storm. Reality has set in. That brings extremely sad days. That brings sentimental days sharing memories. That brings happy days as we begin to move forward in our new normal. Some days I find myself so angry at the unfairness. Was the ED department at the hospital negligent?  Did they make a mistake?  Slurred speech is not a symptom of sciatica. I need answers for my sons. Other days I just want to scream when I hear…. "Heaven has another angel" "He's in a better place" "There's a reason for everything" "Don't question" "It will be okay" "You're so strong" (trust me, I'm not) "Don't feel guilty" "Don't feel…. XYZ" And the myriad of other absolutely well intentioned, but horribly misguided platitudes. I won't even get into

  10/1/2021 One month and 11 days ago, you left us.   On death: It brings a lot of regrets.  It makes me face the fact that I wasn't a good person.  I could have been better.  I could have been nicer.  I could do so much more.   Maybe if I hadn't vented so much... Maybe if I had been kinder... Maybe if I had been a better wife... Maybe I could have been there then and helped him before it was too late. Called an ambulance. Did CPR. Something. Death forces us to face the people we are and the people we were. It also gives us a choice to do better.  To be better. To be the change. I only hope he can forgive me. I only hope my sons can forgive me. I only hope Unetlanvhi (The Great Spirit/God in Cherokee) can forgive me. I hope I can forgive myself.

  9/26/21 Several nights ago I had this dream, more like a nightmare.  I was driving with my sons on this narrow road along a mountain.  It was a brown desolate mountain, no green, no beauty.  On one side of the road was the side of the mountain, rising high into the air.  On the other side were raging waters, right against the edge of the road.  Angry, chopping, wave filled waters for miles and miles.  The road was so narrow and winding.  I was terrified of driving off into the waters.   I kept thinking “I just want my sons to be safe.  I just want my sons to be safe.”  Suddenly, I had driven into this huge pot hole in the road.  It looked to be about 2 feet deep.  I began to panic as I tried and tried to rev the car and get out.  Over the edge of the mountain I heard the roaring of something.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it terrified me.  I kept trying to get the car unstuck, all while praying “Please get my boys out.  Please get my boys out.”  The roaring over the mountain