October is such a blur. Drowning in grief and only getting above water once in awhile to suck in the air doesn't leave much to reminisce to. I was determined to get out of the water...or at the very least get into shallower ends of the pool.
It got to the point where I was desperate. I needed joy in the worst way...so in November, I sought out distractions, and as fate would have it, I found them in droves.
I obsessively relished in the distractions of friends and family. Movies. Lunches. Internet. Exercise. Kids. Holidays. Special events. I didn't want to talk about losing Ryan. His passing began to feel more like a dream than a reality, and guiltily I embraced that. I didn't want it to be real. I missed his touch, his affection...his everything.
I needed to forget.
And to be honest, I really tried.
I didn't forget Ryan...Ryan is seriously unforgettable, but I tried not to dwell on his passing. I tried to forget the hurt, and the loss. I focused solely on the thought that he wanted me to be happy. So I jumped into another section of the deep end and tried to find happiness there. When people would ask how I was, I would give them the thumbs up. When people tried to ask about how the boys were getting through, I would change the subject. "They are doing really well, how's the new job?" When the littles would go to therapy I would question if it was a good idea..."I" certainly didn't want to talk about it. Was I making the right decision having them talk about it? Shouldn't we be soldiering on? Wasn't it best to leave the heartache behind us and normal our way through our days? It hurt too much to remember.
I tried distancing myself from the pain. And in a small way, I succeeded.
Unfortunately, I didn't see the tsunami wave of grief looming above my head. I was too busy, remember?
As it turns out, you can't shut the door on grief. Eventually, it just knocks it down.
And now here I am in December, the distractions left far behind. And mourning the loss of those distractions is like adding salt to the wound. I am back to square one. The Christmas decorations, the rain, the quiet, the aloneness...
I'm over my head again and realize I can't fight the under current. I need to let it take me downstream to my future...and I'm realizing that this grief is part of the process that will get me there.
I miss Ryan.
I'm angry he is gone.
It isn't fair.
We need him.
The loss of his unconditional love has left the facade of my wonderful life in ruins. On the floor in front of me remains the broken shell of what once was...and that old life can't be put together again. A giant piece is now missing.
I miss being told every morning that I am loved.
I miss being hugged tight until I called uncle.
I miss my hand being held in the car.
I miss being kissed.
I'll stop there...
If it wasn't for the boys, I don't know if I would even try to keep my head above water.
Christmas shopping without Ryan? Really?
Even though I feel a bit guilty for my November quest to numb myself...I am thankful that I was afforded a small break from all the pain. I know I needed the respite from the storm, and I am completely thankful for my friends and family that provided such worthy distractions...
But now that the grief has returned in full force, I need to find a way to function and come to terms with where I am in my life.
That will be a process. A process that will take a lot of faith and hope...which I am sure I have stashed in one of my pockets here somewhere...
Dang. Did they get thrown in the wash?
I'm taking December one day at a time.
And if that doesn't work...one hour at a time.
In the mean time, does anyone have an inner tube I can borrow?